I Kill Men Like You
by renners
Summary: How Clint and Natasha became partners.
1. Chapter 1

"_You need to get out of there, Barton. The place is about to blow." _

"Oh really, Phil? I didn't notice." I retorted, rounding a corner where I'd last seen a flash of red.

"_Don't be a smartass, birdbrain, or I'll send an armed squad to come and collect you." _Phil hissed over the comm. I chuckled and was thrown to the side suddenly when the building quaked roughly and dust started to fall through the shutters. I regained my step easily enough and broke into a jog.

"_Barton, abort mission or you die."_

"If I die then so does she; we're in the same building." I mumbled, rounding a corner once more, only to be faced with a hall that lead to a door that was slightly ajar. "Wait, scratch that."

"_Barton, we can get her another time. Abort mission!" _Phil's voice was growing angry now and rising with each word.

"You know that's not going to happen." I wrenched the door open, faced with the edge of a forest. The building quaked again, and I bolted out of the door and into the darkness of the surrounding trees.

"_She's not on the radar anymore, abort mission. Acknowledge?" _I continued walking through the bush, silent as the grave, listening for any snap of a twig or rustle of a leaf. She couldn't have disappeared that fast, but now that I think about it, this was the Black Widow, the most dangerous woman in all of Russia and possibly the world. If she wanted to disappear, then disappear she would.

"Fuck…" I cursed to myself, eyes darting everywhere. It was getting dark out, and the building was bound to explode any minute now.

"_Barton, acknowledge?" _Phil was being persistent, and I felt like I could punch him in the face right now.

"Will you shut up?" I growled, pulling out an arrow and notching it into the bow, peering through the scope and watching.

"_Fine. Have fun dying, see you on the other side."_

"Maybe." I ripped the comm out of my ear, throwing it to the ground and continuing the hunt. The building was shaking now and I could here screams in the distance, and it made things slightly harder to concentrate on. How could I let her get away! She was my target, and now she's out of sight.

Wait, what was that?

I couldn't be sure I'd heard it, but I ran to where my instincts told me to. I sniffed the air and caught a whiff of her sweet perfume. Smirking to myself, I crept to where my nose led me, and through my scope, I caught a flash of red, and was instantly running.

She was fast; faster then me, for sure, and her agility gave her an advantage as we raced almost silently through the forest. The building was still in sight, and more then once she threw a glance over her shoulder at the smouldering place. I still had a smirk on my mouth as I gained onto her, the cold air hitting my face harshly as my breathing got heavier.

And then she stopped, and turned to face me with her own evil smirk playing on her lips. She nodded to me, took a step back, and in a blink, she was gone.

I skidded to a halt, slinging my bow onto my shoulder and sliding the arrow back into place in its quiver. I treaded cautiously over the ground, until I found a small tunnel that pummelled to the earth below. I growled to myself, considering where it led and that she'd be waiting, but all throughs evaded my mind when there was a deafening bang and the building was blowing into smithereens.

I took a deep breath and threw my body into the tunnel, sliding down the soft dirt. The tunnel shook from the explosion and the dirt began to seep through the ground above me and fall onto my face, until I was thrown harshly out of the tunnel and rolling to my feet in an instant. My bow and arrow was already drawn and aimed at the redhead who had her gun pointed at my forehead on the other side of the small underground cave.

Her blue dress was stained with dirt, blood and sweat and her hair was a bloody veil around her face as she held the gun up with a steady hand. Her stockings were torn from around her legs, and she had already discarded her shoes in the corner of the room.

We stood like that, weapons at the ready in case one of us made the wrong move. I took this opportunity to scan the room from my peripheral vision, noticing a second dark tunnel on the opposite side from the first that most likely lead to freedom.

She raised an eyebrow, challenging me with a grin playing around the edges of her mouth.

"You made this yourself?" I asked, glancing around the cave quickly.

"Always need a backup plan when I'm being followed."

This was the first time I'd heard her speak within the week I'd been following and studying her. Her voice was almost broken, and slight rumble that was sweet and drenched in danger, with a slight Russian accent giving her away.

"How'd you know?" I took a step forward, and her eyes narrowed and she clicked the bullet into place, her finger on the trigger. I froze, aiming my arrow at her throat in the same form of threat.

"Interesting choice in weapon." She changed the subject, jutting her chin towards my bow. "But I thought we were in the twenty first century here?"

I chuckled. "Nice attempt in trying to insult me, most people do until they see how I use it."

"Will I get to see?"

I paused, confused by her question. "Perhaps."

She raised her eyebrow. "Killing me isn't going to show me."

"Maybe I'm not going to kill you."

The floor began to rumble beneath our feet, and we both lowered our weapons as our eyes darted around the small space. Dirt began to seep through the walls and the rumbling became more violent, sending us wobbling around trying to stay on our feet.

"There's a second explosion!"

I dived towards her, grabbing her by the waist and bringing her to the ground with me, shielding her body with my own as the walls crashed around us. Rock and dirt began to fall dangerously close to our bodies. The taste and smell of damp earth rose to my mouth and nose, and I buried my face in her hair to escape the choking stench.

By the time the explosion has subsided, we were panting for fresh air and unable to see around us as dust and dirt hung heavy in the air. I heaved myself off her body, squinting and backing into the wall, shrugging off my jacket and wrapping in around my face. She stumbled off the floor, instantly searching for her gun and holstering it by her thigh again.

"Shit!" she hissed, walking over to the tunnel made for exiting out of. It had caved in, completely covered by rocks and lumps of earth. The one we entered was also barred, and she kicked a rock in frustration, coughing and squinting.

"Here." I unwrapped the jacket from around my face and tore it in half, throwing her the fabric, which she caught easily and wrapped around her own face. I put mine back in place and walked over to the barred exit.

I began removing bits of rock and earth from the barrier, but whenever one was removed, more and more seemed to bar its way.

"It's no use. We're trapped."

"Oh, really?" she sneered, leaning against the wall.

"Hey, no need to be rude."

"Shut up. Could this get any worse? I'm stuck here with the man who tried to kill me with his medieval weapon in a place I can hardly see or breath in."

"Things could be worse." I sat down, removing my quiver from my back and placing it next to my bow. I'm going to need to give them both a good cleaning where this is over.

She sighed and sat down on the wall opposite me, her short blue dress now totally ruined from the explosion. She pulled out a dagger from a hidden sheath on her back, and began twirling it between her fingers and sending me a warning glance.

"How do you suppose we're to get out of here?"

I shrugged. "The agency I work for will track me down soon enough and eventually get us out." I mumbled, and notice her stiffen slightly.

"Us?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, us."

"So your not going to kill me?"

I paused again, actually thinking this time.

"Well, you are a threat." She stopped twirling her blade in her hand. "And you've gotten onto our radar in a bad way. And you kill without mercy. Good, innocent people, all dead because of you. Your uncontrollable."

She stood up in an instant and was in front of me with the blade of her dagger pressed to my throat. I remained neutral, ignoring the sting as she pressed a little too hard and blood trickled down my throat slowly.

"And I'd be willing to do it again." She hissed, kneeling in front of me with a poisonous glare on her face.

"I know." I said calmly. "But…"

She blinked twice, raising an eyebrow.

"But you don't remember it, don't you?" I knew I was pushing my luck right now, and that she could easily press that knife through my throat harder and slice it open easily.

When she didn't do either, I continued. "You go out, you kill, and then you go back to the facility you work for. They take you to the Red Room, and they rid of all your memories and weave false ones into your mind instead. You don't remember what they do to you, you see them as your fathers. But really, it's their fault that you are on our radar, and therefore, I cannot find it in myself to kill you for something you have no control over."

The knife was no longer pressed against my throat, and I finally was able to breath again and wipe the small trails of blood away. I ripped the jacket off my face, the dust and dirt had finally sunk to the ground enough for us to breath. She stood facing me, eyes pointing daggers my way as she ripped the jacket away from her own face.

"Sentiment." She scoffed, sheathing her dagger, which still had my blood on the blade. "I kill men like you."

"I know."


	2. Chapter 2

_Trigger warning for mentions of rape. _

_I do not own anything, simply playing around with the characters at my own desire. And I don't own Jeremy Renner. Yet. _

.

It had been nearly three months since I'd last seen or heard of Natalia Romanova. The day I was rescued from the cave, the day she snuck away without being seen and long gone, was the last time I saw her pretty little face.

I was on a mission in Switzerland when I saw her next. She wore a glimmering champagne dress that flowed down her body and complimented her curves in all the right ways, her hair flowing down her back and spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall of red curls. It had been a glance, a simple, three second long glance. I was standing, dressed in a formal suit and scanning the ballroom for my target when her red hair caught my eye.

She was walking (well, looked like she was _gliding_ with her graceful movements) through the crowed, and most of the men had paused from whatever they were doing to get a glimpse at her. Her eyes were set on me, and I nearly dropped my glass of wine when I saw her. She gave me an amused grin, her eyes flashing, before she opened a door and was out of sight almost as soon as she was in.

I was unable to follow her, I had to keep my head in the game and kill my target and get the hell out. I tried to think of reasons why she'd be in Switzerland, especially tonight, but no answers filled my mind.

I left it as a coincidence, that maybe it wasn't even her, but I knew I was lying to myself, I'd seen her emerald green eyes and flaming red hair as clear as water.

Two weeks after spotting her; there was a rapid knock on the door of my small apartment. I had my gun at the ready, the stupid door lacking a peephole. But when I opened it, no one stood there, and I peeked around the corners before spotting the bottle of Russian Vodka on the doorstep. I raised an eyebrow, picking it up and reading the small tag attached to it. In small, neat writing that curled delicately over the small piece of page read five simple yet confusing words.

_Save it for next time. _

I knew straight away it was her, and I was highly perplexed as to why she was popping up everywhere and leaving bottles of expensive Vodka on my doorstep. I put the liquid aside, locked all the doors and windows (although I knew she was more then capable to pick them) and slept with my gun at the ready that night.

"You mean you think she's following you?" I spoke to Phil about it two days after receiving the Vodka, and he was just as dumbstruck as I was.

"I don't know what to think." I sighed, leaning back in my seat.

"I think she's trying to tell you something." Coulson sat down finally, taking a file in his hand and leafing through the pages.

"Like what?"

"That she owes you."

I raised an eyebrow, and he rolled his eyes and placed the file back on the table in front of us.

"Russians are very loyal." He hinted.

"So?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Your so thick." He murmured to himself. "You saved her life, right? You chose not to kill her and let her get away after being stuck underground for a day. I bet you any money that she feels that she owes you her life; an eye for an eye, so to speak, like she is in debt and has to repay you."

"Ahh." I nodded, chuckling lightly to myself. The Black Widow thinks she has to repay me?

"So what are you going to do?" Phil stood up, glancing at his watch briefly.

"Let things happen as they should, I suppose." I replied, drumming my fingers on the arm of my chair. I glanced at the bottle of Vodka that was sitting on the kitchen bench.

"Just don't get yourself killed. She's dangerous."

"I took care of myself last time."

"Yeah, after she threatened you six times." Phil strode around the table, jabbing his finger on the pink scar across my throat. "That file tells you your next mission, good luck."

.

The mission went down rather well. The target was killed and the children who had been rounded up for testing on were set free and sent back to their parents. It was one of those rare missions when people thanked you for your help and you had to get away before the press came and blew your cover; only the children and the thankful parents able to tell the media about the man who set them free.

I found myself disappointed that she hadn't made an appearance during that mission, and the more I tried to ignore and forget about the dangerous woman, the more curious I grew.

After Fury sent me out of the debriefing room and I was allowed to go home, I stopped by in the library to try and find Phil. Apparently he was over in China to discuss the production and establishment of a knew base S.H.I.E.L.D was working on, called the Helicarrier, so with a sigh, I took a cab back home.

It was late in the night; well past midnight by the time I unlocked the door and shoved myself into the small apartment. I sighed and dropped my bag, taking the gun out of the holster on my jeans and placing it on the table. I walked over to the kitchen, my fingers traveling across the wall until I finally made contact with the small light switch.

The kitchen lit up, and everything looked perfectly normal, yet something felt completely out of place. I ran my hand over my face and through my hair, sighing and leaning against the bench, glaring at the bottle of Vodka like it had insulted me in some way. I was exhausted, and in desperate need of a shower to wash off the dirty feeling I got after a mission, and ready to go to bed.

I made sure everything was locked before I grabbed a white towel and headed for the small, shitty little bathroom. My hair was flat on my head and my face felt too oily for my likening, and the showers warm spray managed to relax all of my sore muscles and kinks. I stayed in there longer then I usually would, just letting the water run over my face before it went cold and I turned it off, drying myself and wrapping the towel around my waist.

I felt clean and soft, and I walked out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of steam. I padded across the floorboards, and instantly my body tensed when a soft breeze hit my skin. The window was closed before I had a shower.

I turned and made way to the gun I had left on the bench, only to find that it was no where to be seen and the bottle of Vodka was gone. I took a deep breath, pulling out a kitchen knife and sliding it between the towel and my hip.

I walked over to my bedroom, acting oblivious as I shut the door behind me. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment before switching on the light.

She lay on her stomach, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall of red curls. She was leaning on her elbows, the bottle of Vodka hanging limply in her hands. She wore a dark red dress, and her heels were discarded on the floor beside the bed leg.

She glanced up at me, her eyes flashing dangerously as a smile quirked at the edges of her lips. She kicked her legs absentmindedly in the air, and I found myself taking in a deep breath that I didn't realize I was holding.

"You saved it." she purred, holding up the bottle in her hand. She had already drunken some of it.

I nodded, feeling exposed as I stood there in just a towel, and like the happiest man in the world to have the Black Widow on my bed, in a small dress, holding a bottle of Vodka. She sat up, raising an eyebrow as she unscrewed the lid and put her plush lips over the nozzle, taking a swig and swallowing it like it was water.

"Want some?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came out. I snapped it shut and walked over to the bed, taking the bottle from her outstretched hand and almost hesitantly taking a sip. The liquid burnt my throat and I pulled a face, only causing amusement to flash in her emerald green eyes.

"Care to tell me what the hell you're playing at?" I asked when I finally found my voice, placing the bottle on the bedside table and rummaging through the chest of draws. I glanced at her, and she had a look of mock innocence on her face.

"What, don't you like the Vodka I left for you? It's very expensive, you know." She pouted, swinging her legs over the bed to face me.

"You know what I mean." I slammed the draw shut, clothes gripped tightly in my fist. "Going to Switzerland, leaving drinks behind, appearing in my room…"

She shrugged, crossing one leg slowly over the other and looking up at me with lust filled eyes.

"Aren't you glad I'm here?" she purred, reaching over and taking another mouthful of Vodka. She stood up, sauntering over to me and pressing herself up against my chest. I stumbled backwards, my back slamming into the draws behind me. She traced her fingers along the hard planes of my abs, causing me to shudder slightly and catch her wrist in my hand.

"No." I choked, and she frowned slightly, glancing down at the towel around my waist.

She stood on her toes, her face only a centimeter away from my own. Her breath tickled my face and smelt of Vodka and something sweet, her plush red lips opened slightly. I held my breath, and she smiled gently up at me, leaning in closer.

"You saved my life." She whispered, yanking her wrist out of my grasp and continuing her delicate traces over my body. "I owe you for that."

"What?" I breathed, pushing her roughly away from me. She glared at me, confusion and anger mingling on her features. "You think sleeping with me is a way of repaying me?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and taking the Vodka in her hand again.

"Your trying to act like a sentimental bastard again." She replied coolly, all lust and amusement wiped from her features.

"Maybe that's all I am." I replied, stepping away from the chest of draws.

"There's more to you. I'm curious. What's your secret?" she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours."

She snorted, flipping her hair behind her shoulders and taking another sip. "So, if sleeping with you isn't going to get us even, what will?"

I shrugged. "I don't believe in that sort of stuff, Natalia-"

"Call me Natasha." She cut in coldly.

"Okay, _Natasha_, what I'm trying to say is that you don't have to repay me for not killing you."

"Of course I do."

I shook my head, and she snorted and slipped back on her heels, taking one last sip of Vodka before placing it on the bedside table.

"Whatever, I got to go. I don't think they'll be too happy if I'm late again." Her face washed over with hatred, and I had a mild sense of curiosity burning in my stomach at her words.

She walked out of my bedroom, swaying her hips as she made her way through my slightly untidy apartment, and I followed behind her, fumbling with the pile of clothes in my hands.

"Your guns under your pillow, by the way." She said, turning for the door instead of the window this time.

She turned the doorknob and shrugged on a coat she'd hung over the handle. She opened the door and took a step out, nodding towards me and making her way down the hall, before pausing mid step and turning back around again.

"Oh, and here's your knife."

She pulled out my kitchen knife from the holster on her thigh, handing it to me (the blade was still warm from her heated flesh) and smirking darkly at my surprised face, turning and walking out of sight.

I closed the door, holding the knife in one hand, absolutely scared at how she'd managed to pull it from my towel without me noticing, and I shook my head, switching off the light and making my way to my bedroom. I needed to sleep.

.

"Where have you been?"

"I was out."

"You were gone for three days, Natalia. Where have you been?"

"New York."

"To see that assassin again?"

"Yes."

A large hand was placed on my shoulder, moving my hair and tucking it behind my ear and letting it fall over my back. He leant in from behind me, kissing the side of my neck and grazing his teeth over my ear lobe. I suppressed a shudder of disgust and had to fight the urge to snap his neck.

"Did he fuck you like I do?" He whispered, licking and suckling at my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, the shadows of the flame from the fire still flickering behind my lids.

"No." I gasped. I felt him smirk against my skin.

"Good." He breathed, his hand traveling over my chest, down my stomach and towards my hips.

I let out a breath as his hand dipped lower, so low until he reached the hem of my dress and hitched it up, sliding his hand up my creamy thigh and rubbing my mound.

"Do you like that?" he sighed, holding my back against his chest with one hand while his other pressed against my folds which felt good in all the wrong ways.

"Yes." I lied, closing my eyes and holding back the tears that threatened to spill over.

He stopped then, raising both of his hands to the straps of my dress and letting them fall over my shoulders, before tugging it down until it fell at my feet in a pool of red.

He skimmed his fingers over my lace bra and panties, and I could feel the hard bulge pressed against my lower back as he grasped one breast and dipped his hand into my panties and pressed down onto my clit, causing my knees to buckle slightly as he rubbed small and lazy circles over it.

I swallowed hard as he began to lead me over to the bed, pushing me down so I was bent over in front of him. He smacked my ass hard, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the room. I tucked my head into my arms, biting down onto the flesh as he began to remove the remainders of my clothing.

There was a knock on the door, and he clicked his tongue, calling for whoever it was to enter. I didn't bother to look, only listened as he continued undressing me in front of the stranger.

"I can come back later if your busy, Mr. Petrovich."

"No, no, we're not bothered at all, aren't we, Natalia?"

"No." I breathed, hearing both the men chuckled behind me as he ran his hands down my spine.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"She is."

"What is it that you need, Sergey? I want to get started." He skimmed his fingers over the swell of my ass.

"The arena is ready."

His hand paused, and I heard him chuckle.

"Great."

"See you tomorrow, then, Ivan." Sergey said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"Now, where were we?" Ivan whispered, continuing his trail before he dipped his fingers into my warm centre.

"Ivan…" I gasped as he pumped his fingers in and out of me, and I felt my body reject him in a pulse of disgust as he grinned when I said his name.

"Next time you fuck your little assassin, I want you to picture me doing you from behind like I am now, so you know what to expect when you come back home."

"I don't even know his name!" I burst out, a tear escaping my eye as he slid another digit into me.

"Good."

.

_Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

If her red hair wasn't what caught my eye, the black cat suit she wore in the casually dressed crowd definitely did. Nearly everyone was looking at her like she was a maniac in the middle of Central Park, ogling her beauty. I frowned but stood from the park bench, walking over to her as she stood and stared at me with an expecting look.

"Hi." I said almost wearily, coming to a stop in front of her as the bustling crowd all moved around us.

"Hi."

I scratched the back of my head, looking around uneasily at the confused faces surrounding us.

"What are you-"

"I ran away."

I felt my eyes widen, and she glared at people with deadly green eyes as they tried to listen into the conversation.

"Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere private?" I suggested, and she nodded, turning around and causing her long red curls to bounce as she strode easily through the crowed. My apartment was just across the road from the park, and we were up the stairs and through the door in less then five minutes.

"What's going on?" I said, locking the door and turning to face her. She was sprawled on the lounge, lying on her stomach with her head tucked in her arms, her legs swinging absentmindedly in the air.

"I already told you." She replied, closing her eyes with a slight frown.

"Yeah, but why?" I took a seat on the love chair next to her, resting my feet on the dusty coffee table and shrugging off my jacket.

She opened one eye and stared at me, closing it and sighing. "I don't want to work in that facility anymore. Ever since you made an appearance to kill me, things are becoming clearer as to why my memories go missing in the night and I'm left with blank spaces in my mind. I don't know how they do it, or when, but the fact that I'm so defenceless when they do puts me on edge."

I nodded, glancing out the window at the sun that hung low on the skyscrapers.

"But there's more." I said, folding my hands in my lap. She opened both her eyes, her penetrating glare making me squirm on the inside, but I remained neutral on the out.

"There is."

"Do you want to tell me?"

She thought about this for a moment, glancing away from me and staring somewhere in the distance before sighing and sitting up, resting her face in her hands as she leant her elbows on her knees.

"Can I trust you?"

I nodded. "Sure."

She scoffed. "I don't trust anyone." She mused, staring at me with emerald green eyes. I raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes, continuing. "Our leaders have decided that they want all thirteen Black Widow's to fight in an arena until only one stands. We all know I'd be the winner, but those twelve girls are the closest things I have to friends, although they'd never know it. I'm not going to kill them so I can be brainwashed and mind controlled even more."

I nodded, and she kneaded her forehead with her fingers.

"And I've been raped ever since I met you."

I glanced at her, my eyes widening til they felt like they'd pop out of their sockets. I regained composure, though, because I knew she hated when people were sentimental towards her.

"I'm so sorry." I said simply, and she laughed sourly at me.

"He tells me to remember him when you fuck me. I can't do a thing in my defence because he'd kill or torture me; it's happened before."

I nodded, glancing back out the window again. "What are you going to do?"

She took a deep breath, almost shaky, standing up and pacing the room for a moment.

"I want to change sides."

I nearly jumped out of my seat, and she already pulled her gun out and had it pointed at me at my sudden movement. I put my hands behind my head, and she lowered the weapon slowly.

"But first, you have to tell me your name."

I smiled, and she continued to glare at me as the amber sunset began to shine through the window and the light danced off her face.

"My names Clint Barton."

.

Coulson's reaction to my announcement was extremely different then I had planned it to be. I invited him over for tea, which he was sceptical of, but came anyway. We ate, then I told him I had news.

"Please don't freak out." I said quietly, walking over to my room and holding onto the handle. He simply raised his eyebrow, nodding for me to continue.

She stepped out wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black tank-top (Some how she had managed to drop her luggage off at mine). She had no shoes on, her hair as curly as ever and her eyes darting around the room as she walked out and examined the man at the table. He didn't seem to react to her appearance, merely glanced at me.

She stood in the kitchen, going no further, and I scratched the back of my head uncomfortably as the two of them stared each other down. Coulson eventually sighed, standing up and straightening his suit. Natasha already had her gun pointed at him, and he chuckled slightly.

"She wants to join S.H.I.E.L.D." I said finally, stepping between them.

"She's not doing a very good job at making a first impression." Coulson muttered, taking a sip from his cup as casually as if he didn't have a gun pointed at his head at all. She bared her teeth at him.

"You just got to trust me. She wants to change sides."

"It's not as simple as that, and Fury would never allow it, she's the enemy."

"But you can convince him! You did it with me, remember?" I said, memories of him standing outside my prison cell with a small smile on his face.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Can we talk privately?"

I nodded, glancing at the red-head and motioning to the seat, which she wearily took. We walked into my bedroom, closing the door behind.

"Are you sleeping with her?" he asked instantly, looking down at me with disappointment as he pulled out his cell phone.

"What? No! You know I'm not like that, Coulson." I defended. He shrugged.

"She can be convincing."

I already knew she was pressing her ear against the door and listening into the conversation. He probably did, too.

"So can I."

He dialled a number into his phone and put it to his ear.

"Fury's going to be furious." He smirked, pacing around the room without much interest. I chuckled lightly turning and walking out of the room. She was already seated on the chair again, staring blankly up at me as I walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of water.

"So?" She said after a while, leaning back into the chair and flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

"He's talking to Fury." She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "He's the director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What does that stand for again?" she asked quietly.

"Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate." I said slowly, and her eyes widened slightly.

"I like 'S.H.I.E.L.D' better."

I chuckled, turning as Phil walked quietly out of my room. He looked at the two of us, slipped his phone into his pocket and put his glasses on.

"Fury's curious. He wants to see the two of you tomorrow at base, three o'clock sharp."

"Oh great…" I sighed, crunching the bottle in my fist and throwing it in the bin. Natasha's head whipped back and forth between us, eyes flashing.

"Good luck." He said to Natasha, who narrowed her eyes but nodded sharply.

"See you tomorrow." He turned to me, clapping me on the back lightly before picking up his briefcase and striding out of the door.

"I don't think he likes me." She sighed, leaning back into her chair, her defensive demeanour dropping as soon as the door closed.

"Can you blame him?" I leaned against the bench, tossing an apple from hand to hand and examining all the dishes I had to wash. She laughed sourly.

"I'm having a shower."

She stood up and rummaged through the pantry, pulling out a white towel before throwing a glance my way and walking towards the bathroom. I chuckled and listened as she locked the door and the shower sprayed to a start

.

"You seem to be making yourself at home."

I walked into my bedroom after tidying up the kitchen and putting the dishes away, exhausted and ready to sleep, only to find her laying in my bed with her face buried in a book, her hair still damp and hanging in loose curls around her face. She was free of any make-up and was snuggled deep in the blankets and covers, like a small girl in her parents huge bed.

"Mhm…" she mumbled, never taking her eyes off the pages of the book. I sighed, walking into the bathroom. Her towel was hung on the rack and the mirror was foggy aside from the clear patch that had been rubbed away. Her toothbrush had taken a place in the jar next to mine, and I was curious to know how long she planned on staying.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth, tugging my shirt over my shoulders and switching the light off. She merely glanced at me as I walked back into the room, raising an amused eyebrow before looking back at her book. I smirked, digging through the pantry until I found a quilt, walking over to the bed and pulling one of the pillows out from beneath her, causing her to hiss and snatch my wrist in once quick movement (she even managed to mark her book and close it).

"Aren't you going to sleep with me?" she purred after a while, her grip on my wrist loosening as she slid her small hand up and over my arm, squeezing the taught muscles of my biceps softly.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." I smirked, prying her wandering hand away from my body as it made its way down my chest and abs. She pouted playfully and crossed her arms, and I chuckled before walking out of the room.

The couch wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep in, but it would have to do for now, since my bed was inhabited by a beautiful murderer. I opened the window and discarded my jeans, slipping under the blankets. I glanced at the door leading to my bedroom, just in time to see her eyes peeping over her book as she examined me from the bed. I smiled and laid back down, feeling for the gun under my pillow, just in case, falling asleep to the glow of the lamp from the room and the soft rummaging of pages.

I woke at the crack of dawn, light barely shining through the open window. I rubbed my eyes, sitting up and cracking my stiff neck and toes. The bedroom door was now closed, and I wondered when she had eventually fallen asleep.

I boiled the kettle and walked to the laundry, pulling out a grey shirt and black shorts, getting changed quickly and making myself a coffee to wake me up. I ran out of milk, dripping the last contents into the glass before stirring it all together. It was strong, and hot, but I drank it quickly as it burned my throat before going into the bathroom and splashing my face, brushing my teeth and taming my wild sandy hair.

I slipped on my joggers and left a note on the table, telling her where I was going and when I would be back, and not to kill me when I walked through the door when I arrived.

The air was cold and bit at my face as I jogged down to Central Park, passing by a few other pedestrians, cyclists and runners. I ran for around two hours, losing track of time as my breathing grew heavier and my heartbeat faster, until I decided to head to the corner shop, purchase some milk and go home.

I was sweating and probably stunk, so I had a shower. She was still asleep when I got home, so I screwed up the note I had left her and tossed it in the bin, placing the milk in the fridge and grabbing a towel. The hot water loosened my muscles, spraying onto my back. I washed myself and turned the shower off, drying myself and wrapping the towel around my waist and walking back into the kitchen.

"Morning."

I glanced at the fridge, nearly dropping my towel at the sight. She was bent over, wearing nothing but a lacy pair of black panties and bra, her creamy and battle damaged skin illuminated in the soft light. She stood up straight, turning to face me with an amused grin on her face.

"Morning." I breathed, shaking my head and tearing my eyes away from her. She closed the fridge with a pear in her hand, sauntering over to a chair and taking a seat.

"Did you have a good run?" She asked, biting into the fruit and licking the juice off her lips slowly.

"How did you know?"

She smirked and nodded to the note on the table, damaged after I had screwed it up and threw it in the bin.

"Oh." I said stupidly. "Yeah, I did."

She nodded, examining me closely as I moved from the kitchen in just a towel. I headed towards my room, and she followed eagerly, pear forgotten and sitting half eaten on the table.

"What are you doing?" I said as she closed the door, something dark playing in her features

"I want you." She said simply, taking a step towards me.

"No you don't."

"But I do." She whispered, creeping closer and closer. I backed away, but the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. A smile crept upon her mouth and she finally reached me, hand splayed on my chest before pushing me roughly down onto the bed. She climbed smoothly on top of me, tracing her fingers over the hard planes on my stomach, a sense of déjà vu creeping into my mind.

"I don't." I breathed as her hand inched closer to the towel wrapped around my waist. She sighed and her features grew angry, scrambling easily off my body.

"Why won't you let me repay you?" she growled, and I sat up, running a hand over my face and breathing heavily.

"Because I don't want you to." I sighed, standing up and rummaging through my chest of draws, pulling out some clean underwear, jeans and button-up shirt.

She scoffed, grabbing her suitcase and marching out, slamming the door behind her. I got dressed, shaking off the feeling of her smooth skin on top of mine, her shapely body sauntering towards me, her red hair spilling over her shoulders and her green eyes hungry with desire.

This was going to be a long day.

.

_I hope everyone had a good Christmas and Santa have you everything you wanted! Leave a review and tell me what you think!_


	4. Chapter 4

Clint Barton was clearly a very respected and loyal agent above all others, judging by the superior flow that emits from him when all the agents basically bow their heads in his presence. My first guess on Phil Coulson was correct; he is Clint's handler and they shared a very unbreakable bond, like father and son.

Phil still proved to be edgy around me, like I was going to snap and lash out at any moment. As soon as we were escorted through the doors of S.H.I.E.L.D.S base, glares were thrown my way and whispers were surging through the room like a tidal wave. I was clearly a hated asset towards this organization and no doubt wanted dead, which made me feel pride as I strode through the halls, all eyes on me.

I was almost shocked when I was taken to the hospital ward to be checked over for diseases or illnesses that I was unaware of. Clint explained that it was S.H.I.E.L.D.S way of making sure I was right and healthy to become a part of the organization, although I (and he) weren't even sure if I would make it.

They checked for bugs, and I couldn't blame them, considering I was the most dangerous spy in the whole of Europe and could attack at any minute. The fact that I hated being poked and prodded by doctors (something the Red Room spurted into hate for me) made things a whole lot harder when Clint begged me to stay under control after elbowing a nurse in the nose when she came up behind me unexpectedly, resulting in a sickening crunch and a lot of blood.

I made sure he stood by me the whole time, because although I trusted no one, he was the first person I looked to in this place. He sat on the bed and always held eye contact with me, which I was reluctant to break when the doctors shifted my body around. He never batted an eyelash at my over-revealing hospital gown, didn't even let his eyes wander the slightest, always holding that unbreakable contact with his intense, stormy eyes.

No one could ever hold eye contact with me for that long.

The doctors and nurses were almost _too _gentle, as if they were trying to prove to one another that they could go through an inspection on the Black Widow without ending it injured (like one nurse had failed to do so) and more then once I felt the urge to snap their neck at their false kindness.

Once a couple of swabs and blood tests were taken and I was finally free of doctors, we were left in the ward for a while. That's when I came forward.

"I've come to a conclusion." I said, plopping down next to him on the stiff hospital mattress.

"Hm?" he glanced up at me. "And what's that?"

I snorted to myself. "Well, you deny all of my advances towards you, which, if I say so myself, are pretty damn hard to deny. You wont even dare to look over my body in this skimpy piece of fabric-" I motioned to my gown. "-So, I've made it easier for you. You don't have to go through the awkward situation of telling me yourself."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "What are you talking about?"

"You and Coulson… I think there is something much deeper between the two of you then meets the eye…"

"Wait, what?"

"Your gay, aren't you?"

He stood up abruptly, laughing with his face in his hands. I raised an eyebrow, but remained emotionless as he carried on his fit of laughter aimed towards me.

"I'm not gay, Natasha!" he finally panted, standing in front of me with watery eyes. "Just because it doesn't seem like I'm attracted to you doesn't mean I'm not."

"So you do think I'm attractive?"

I stood up so our bodies were nearly pressed together. He took a step back.

"Of course, who wouldn't?" he laughed, his smile gleaming in the white hospital light. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You're a strange man."

He shrugged, and we both looked towards the door as it opened and Phil took a step in.

"Director Fury is ready to see you in ten minutes." He nodded towards us, looking into Clint's eyes, rolling his own and shrugging in a telepathic conversation that I caught nothing about.

"We'll be there." He finally called back after they were done, and I moved towards my pile of clothes as Phil left the room.

He drew the curtain across and I rolled my eyes at his modesty, as I got dressed, slipping into my black cat suit like it was a second skin. All my weapons had been taken away from me and I would kill everyone in this building if they didn't give them back. They've got my favourite dagger.

"By the way," I heard him call from the other side of the curtain. I pulled it aside just as I zipped up my cat suit. "Not all men are greedy and disgusting like the one's you were forced to sleep with; some of us are still decent enough to respect a woman and her body."

I frowned, and his blue stormy eyes sparkled with honesty, and for a minute, I found myself believing his words and almost wishing they were true.

"There is no such thing as respect when it comes to women. Decent men are impossible to find." I mumbled, bending down to tie the laces on my boots. He kneeled down next to me.

"Then how come you've found me?"

.

Director Fury was terrifying.

I wouldn't let him know that, though, because that is a sign of weakness, and the Black Widow is not weak. I only got a glimpse of him, not very clear but enough to make my insides squirm as Clint and Coulson took me into the interrogation room.

It had been nothing like I thought. The Red Room made you very expectant when it came to certain things, such as interrogation rooms. When they opened the doors, there were no chains, no drain in the centre of the floor or blood stains and trails that led to said drain. It didn't reek of urine and rotting bodies, and didn't feel cold and threatening like it should have.

No, it was just a pure white room, the walls looking like they spread out further then they actually do. There was a one-way window, two chairs that sat on either side of a desk, and the cuffs on one of the chairs showed me which one I would be seated in.

"These are a necessity." Barton mumbled as he clasped the cuffs around my small wrists, grabbing my fists as I attempted to free myself. They were strong. "Please, just try to cooperate."

I glared up at him but nodded, and he sighed and released my hands, tucking an irritating curl behind my ear. Coulson cleared his throat, and Clint stood up straight.

"He is a very impatient man. Say one thing wrong, and a thousand bad things could go down." Coulson explained as he set a large file on the desk with a steaming cup of coffee. "Try not to be too feisty with your tongue."

I raised an eyebrow. Why was Coulson giving me advice after the hostile introduction we'd experienced?

"Just… try to persuade him. I know your good at it." Clint walked to the door, giving me one last look. "Both of our necks are on the chopping block; I'd hate to see what would happen if this turned out badly."

With one hopeful nod, he turned and closed the door behind him, leaving me in the white room, watching me through the one-way window with many other people while I sat there and waited.

For hours.

.

_Hi all, am I the only one who is devastated that Jeremy Renner and Scarlett Johansson didn't win the chemistry award in the People's Choice Awards? Because I feel like I could throw my laptop at a wall because of it._

_Anyway, review! (I'm not desperate…)_


	5. Chapter 5

It was a devastating position to be in, watching the Black Widow slowly break with all the information she was retrieving.

Fury had an urgent meeting with the Council, and we watched as Natasha sat in her seat, cuffed to the chair, appearing to be calm and patient as the hours ticked by slowly. I could see right through her though; she was frustrated. She concentrated too much on keeping her breathing even and blinking at the right moment, her posture was too straight and the blank look on her face occasionally flashed with anger.

When Fury eventually arrived to the interrogation room, he sent me a dangerous glare that sent shivers down my spine before walking into the room, his coffee long ago turned cold and wasted. Natasha merely glanced at him as he took a seat and opened up the file. She was examining him thoroughly, her eyes roaming over his form as he scanned through the file and apparently paid no attention to her. Fury was _not_ impressed.

And then it all began, and Natasha found herself slowly starting to be unable to answer the questions that Fury asked, as they got harder and more personal. She didn't remember a _thing_ of importance, hardly knew about her childhood and her parents death and the fire. The things she did and the things that happened to her were almost sickening, and I found myself looking away from her in disgust, and Coulson more then once placed a hand on my shoulder and told me it wasn't her fault.

I watched her strong, emotionless mask slowly begin to crack.

And then Fury told her the kill count.

Three hundred and twenty-two.

And her mask crumbled to the floor in dust.

Fury and I were probably the only one's that noticed it, noticed the slight widening in her eyes and how a clear coat of tears glimmered off her eye but refused to spill, how her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her lips tugged down in the corners. Fury decided to call it a night and gave her a copy of her file to read over when she wanted to know about her life. She accepted it without a word, and Fury left the room.

"Barton." My head snapped his way. He nodded at me, his one eye shadowed. I headed to the door and walked into the white room. She stared blankly past me.

"Hey." I tried to smile, fumbling as I got the keys out of my pocket and knelt down to unbuckled her wrists. She didn't reply, just kept staring past me at the one-way window. When her wrists lay limply in the clasps, I grabbed them in my own hands and messaged the red marks that marred her white skin. Her fingers twitched instinctively but she made no move to attack.

"Are you ready to go home?" I asked, grabbing her arms and raising her from her seat. She stood automatically and nodded, picking up the file and letting me lead her out the door.

"I'm surprised they're letting me go," she mumbled as we got into the car and drove away from the base.

"So am I. I think you convinced him pretty good."

Her head snapped my way, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You think that was all an act?" she hissed. I glanced at the driver, who seemed to be paying as much attention to the road as possible.

"I hope it wasn't."

She continued to glare even when I turned to look out the window. Her eyes burned into my head and I resisted the urge to ask her what she was looking at.

"Thankyou." She eventually whispered. I glanced at her; she was no longer looking at me. She stared out the window instead.

"For what?"

"For having faith in me." She looked me right in the eye. "For being a friend."

I nodded and she patted me on the back slightly, resting her head on the window and closing her eyes, clutching the folder in her arms and appearing at ease the whole ride home although I knew she was having a battle of emotions with her body.

As soon as we reached my apartment, she silently padded to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. I knelt against the floor and rested my ear on the door, listening to the rustle of papers and a rare sniffle here or there. I left her alone to bare with her burdens, plopping myself onto the couch and falling into an uneasy sleep of dreams about a young girl pointing a gun to my head without even a trace of hesitance on her young features. Her red curly hair flowed over her face and her green eyes flashed with a vicious glint before the trigger was pulled and I woke up covered in sweat.

.

After a rough night of restless sleeping and cold sweats, I finally woke up later then I usually would. I checked my phone; no call from Phil. That was odd. It's been over a week since I've been assigned for a mission.

I stood up and groaned, cracking my sore neck and back before flicking on the kettle.

I felt stupid when the last thing I noticed was that the door to my bedroom was slightly ajar. I frowned and walked over to it, peeking through the crack before pushing in open fully. The curtains were wide open and the bed was freshly made, no Natasha in sight.

"Fuck." I cursed. She obviously had run away.

I grabbed my phone to call Phil.

"_Hello?"_

"Phil, I lost her."

"_What do you mean you lost her?"_ he exclaimed.

"I mean exactly what I said. She's gone."

I heard him growl angrily and grimaced at the sound. He was yelling orders around to other people while I was frantically trying to unsuccessfully pull on my shirt and jeans while keeping the phone to my ear.

"_Barton, go after her, look in any place you might find her and get her back! She_ _has__ information about S.H.I.E.L.D that we cannot afford to get into the hands of our enemy. GET HER BACK!" _

I was about to reply when suddenly the front door creaked open and I spun around hastily. She stood there with an amused grin, holding a brown paper bag in her arms. She was dressed in a black trench coat and jeans and she looked so normal that it was almost scary.

Suddenly I realized that I looked like the biggest idiot. I had one arm through the sleeve in my shirt and the other one hitching up the fabric as I held the phone to my ear. My jeans were hardly above my knees and my hair was a sandy mess, spiking up in all directions. I felt myself blush and quickly turned around, hopping slightly.

"Phil, yeah, scratch that. She's here."

"_Barton, you are going to be the death of me. When I get my hands on you-" _I hung up before he could finish his threat and dropped the phone on the lounge, pulling my arm through the sleeve and buckling my belt around my waist.

"Why didn't you tell me where you went!" I bellowed, standing up and slamming my fists down onto the bench as she unpacked the groceries from the bag.

"I did."

I frowned and she glanced up at me, pointing to the small note sitting on the bench right next to my car keys. I huffed and grabbed the note from the bench.

_Gone shopping, your cupboards are ridiculously empty. How does a man like you survive?_

_Be back soon, _

_Natasha._

I re-read the note over again; scowling at the small piece of paper like it had personally offended me. _How did I miss this vital piece of evidence considering my line of work and how it's the most important thing to do on a mission?! _

I glared up at her as she continued unpacking the bag. Fruits, snacks, lollies, bread, butter, ham, chicken; she got everything that I didn't bother to supply. She crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the bin behind her without looking. A perfect shot.

I scratched the back of my head uncomfortably as she continued to place said supplies into the near empty pantries.

"Where did you get the money to buy all that?" I asked, feeling my pockets. The wallet was still in there from the night before.

"I have my stash." She shrugged, popping a cherry in her mouth with a wink before placing the rest in the fridge. I rubbed my eyes and drummed my fingers against the bench.

"Are… How are you?" I said after a moment's silence. She leaned against the bench and frowned slightly.

"I'll get better." There was no trace of remorse in her beautiful features, and she smiled lightly at me. I nodded.

"So," she started. "I see the couch isn't really your favourite place to sleep."

I raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"

"I watched you sleep." She laughed slightly. My eyes widened, but I didn't really feel like it was much of a surprise.

"It's not the most comfortable." I agreed.

"You know I've got nowhere else to go," she stated. "But, in thanks to you for letting me stay here, I'm going to shift into the study."

I grimaced, hoping she hasn't already looked inside the study and seen the massive piles of old paperwork and boxes of belongings I hadn't bothered to unpack.

"Uh, sure."

She smiled and kicked off her boots, shrugging off her coat to reveal and purple tank top.

"Oh," she turned to face me. "Thankyou for letting me stay here. It's… kind of you."

I smiled down at my hands. "That's what decent friends do, right? They look out for each other."

She seemed almost hesitant to reply, so she just tucked a loose curl behind her ear and nodded, turning to rummage through the cupboards and pull out numerous ingredients that she just put away.

"Pancakes?"

.

It became a routine; get up in the morning, drive to S.H.I.E.L.D base, let the important people evaluate Natasha, do some testing (physical and mental) and go back home.

As punishment, Fury wasn't going to give me a mission until Natasha was cleared and officially an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D and was ready to go on missions, because I was now assigned her partner and she was now under my care.

There was still the problem of the Council, however. Fury has tried to keep them in the dark for as long as possible, and he was doing a good job with it; until they over ran our systems and suddenly seven people were present on every screen in the entire head quarters.

"This is very immature," Coulson was the first one to talk. Before the interruption, we were testing Natasha's flexibility and agility in one of the gyms. The massive screen at the front of the room flickered to life and Coulson stood forward.

"Ah, Agent Phil Coulson, nice to see you," a woman spoke up. Natasha glared at the screen and swiftly swung down from the bars she was previously spinning with inhuman speed on, coming to stand next to me and unwrapping her hands from the bandages. Seven pair of eyes flickered straight to her.

"Every single agent in S.H.I.E.L.D is watching you right now," Coulson said as the doors slammed open and Fury came storming in.

"Councilmen and women, I think we should take this to more private premises-"

"No need," Agent Hill walked in then, in all her glory and professionalism. I sighed; this isn't going to end well. Natasha was stiff beside me, glancing from person to person. "All systems have been shut down. No one can see or hear anything except for us." she stopped beside Coulson, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at the screen.

"Well, with that sorted," A balding man spoke up. "Let's talk about that girl over there."

"Her name is Natasha." I almost yelled. How dare they call her 'that girl'?

"Actually, the file on her claims that her name is Natalia-"

"I don't care what that file says; she doesn't like the name and has every right not to. It's a nightmare of her past, and she is now addressed as Natasha Romanoff."

She glanced up at me with a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

The room was silent for a moment.

"So, care to explain what this rude interruption is all about?" Fury boomed. He was _pissed._

"We have received all the results on Natasha's progress so far, and we are pleased to announce that we are impressed."

The atmosphere seemed to change as everyone let out a sigh of relief and relaxed their tense muscles. Fury began to turn to give Natasha the thumbs up (which was a simple nod in Fury's gesture), until the voice continued.

"However, we still cannot trust her. The people she worked for are still out there and we have no idea if they are still in contact or not."

"I can assure you that Natasha hasn't even mentioned her old organization, let alone contacted them." I stepped forward in a defensive position in front of her. I heard her click her tongue and she stepped next to me. She didn't need to be defended.

"We do not take the word of the man who was compromised enough to bring the enemy forward in the first place." The woman said sharply, and the look that Coulson threw me made me shut my mouth.

"So what is it you would like to do?" Fury said through gritted teeth.

"Take down the Red Room."

.

The last words rang through my ears like a constant bell. My breath caught in my throat and my heart knotted and my stomach dropped but on the outside I seemed perfectly calm. _Don't let them see you weak. _

The room was silent for a long moment. Everyone had turned to look at me, but I ignored them and glared at the screen without really looking anywhere.

Was I strong enough to take down the Red Room? Was I ready to seek revenge on those who had taken my life and screwed around with my body in ways that no human should have to endure? I felt my blood boil at the thought of their sickening acts upon the innocent girls.

All those married men who used our bodies as young as eight, Ivan and his sick games, the arena…

The arena.

The girls who were sort of my friends who had to fight til the last survivor, who will have to endure a life of being a sex slave and soldier to a sick organization and not have a clue why she was going through this?

I started to see red.

"I'll do it."

All the eyes widened and everyone glanced at one another as if making sure they'd heard me right.

"Natasha…" Clint mumbled, eyes dark and calculating as he examined my blank face.

"Well, great!"

We all looked back up at the screen. No, this was not _great._

"You and agent Barton will be sent to Russia next week. We have already sent the files and you will be briefed on it like usual protocol."

"Wait, their going _alone?_" Phil protested, and Hill narrowed her eyes.

"Indeed. They need to prove that they can work as a team."

"But this is a suicide mission," Fury said, "Two people cannot possibly conduct this on their own."

"Well, with miss Romanoff's enhancements, it will give them the upper hand. A backup squad will be available, but if they are needed, we cannot possibly be sure that she didn't fail on purpose. Russians are loyal."

"Enhancement's?" I heard Clint mumble beside me. Shit. We tried to keep that a secret from him. I ignored him as Fury cut in angrily.

"Why would she be loyal to an organization that tortured, raped, brainwashed and destroyed her life?!"

"It's twisted, we know, but its protocol-"

"No, you bunch are just determined to make this impossible for her to become a member of S.H.I.E.L.D"

Fury pulled out a little remote from the pocket of his coat and with one click, the screen turned blank before anyone could reply.

He turned to face me, eye widened in anger. "We have work to do. They told us what the mission will be, not how it will be achieved, so we need to use that as a window and hopefully this wont end in bloodshed."

.

_ooOOOoooOOoo who's excited? I'm excited ;)_

_review, it's not that hard to tell me what you think and encourage me to update faster (hint, hint)_


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay," Fury walked into the briefing room, slamming a pile of files onto the table and sliding them to Clint, Hill, Coulson and I none too gently. "The Council has given us a mission; take down the Red Room, but they haven't given us a plan to execute the mission, which we will use to our advantage. Romanoff," my head snapped up at my new given name. "Tell us the best way to get into the organization."

I hesitated, noticeably, too. The heavy feeling of betraying Mother Russia clung to me like a veil, and although I knew it was the right thing to do, I found myself forcing the words out with regret.

"We can't walk right through the front doors and kill our way in; it's suicidal. And considering the only entrance _is _the front door due to lack of windows and exits, we've hit a bump in the road."

Clint let out an audible moan, and Coulson slapped him on the back of the head.

"So what do you suppose we do?"

"I spent more then enough time in my years there to study the place, and it goes right down into the ground, below the earth and slices into a quarter of the river on the south side. The building has its own sewage system due to it's remote location that leads into the furnace room which no one dares to venture down to in case of being accused of trying to escape, it's happened to me more then once. It's the perfect hideout right under their roof."

There was an almost tangible uncomfortable air around the room, and everyone stared in disbelief.

"So your saying, we have to swim _down _into a river, through a sewage system, and camp out right under their noses, in the below freezing weather of Russia?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"That's crazy."

"Got a better plan, Robin Hood?"

"Yeah, blow the place up."

"That's cowardly."

"At least we have a smaller chance of dying!"

"Oh please, I've been through worse."

"I have no plans to die."

"None do."

"WILL THE TWO OF YOU SHUT UP!"

Clint and I paused in the middle of our argument, leaning back into our seats and away from each other's faces from the heated moment in the fight. Hill's eyes were wide as they flickered from Fury to Clint to me in shock. Phil was holding a hand over his mouth and tried to stifle a laugh, and Fury looked like his eye was going to pop out.

"_We need you to work together._" He said, emphasizing the sentence. "Why can't you get it through your heads? Her neck is on the line here, and it's your fault its hanging there in the first place, so you will follow orders and do what I say or I swear to God I will cut your salary back and make you train the rookies."

Clint gulped and nodded, sinking into his seat and angling away from me. Fury took a deep, calming breath and stood up, walking over to a briefcase and brining it onto the table.

"These," he started, unclasping the clips and taking out two technical looking mouth guards. "Are the BTH Communicators. Coulson's been working on them for years, and coincidently, they were complete just over a month ago, the perfect timing." He handed them to us, and we twirled them in our hands, examining the buttons and bits and pieces. Coulson was noticeably uncomfortable, like they were his babies.

"What do they do?" Clint mumbled, glancing at Coulson.

"BTH stands for Breathing, Talking, Hearing. Basically they are underwater communicators, and with the advanced technological research we've conducted a resource that can generate oxygen through the gas chamber for an unlimited amount of air that will last up to two hours."

"There must be a catch," Hill spoke up for the first time during the whole meeting. Coulson nodded almost sadly.

"You must remain within a ten-meter radius of each other or communications will black out. If you reach your two hour oxygen limit, the gas chamber will instantly shut down and could result in drowning."

"And what about hypothermia? Do you even understand how cold it's going to be? My balls are going to-"

"We don't want to know." I hissed, smacking Clint on the back of the head. Phil winked at me.

"Deal with it. You've had enough training, this should be easy for you." Fury quipped, and Clint huffed in defeat. "Agent Hill will take you to the Weapons Inventory and guide you through the structure of the bomb and how to keep it safe from the water."

"What, do you have some waterproof duffle bag for us to carry all our equipment in or something?" I scoffed.

"Well, yes."

.

"Hey,"

I looked up from my book. He stood in the doorway of my newly renovated bedroom, wearing no shirt, and I had to admire the way the light of the lamp bounced shadows across the hard planes on his chest. I placed the book on the bedside table and shifted slightly in the blankets.

"Hey."

He raised a questioning eyebrow and took a cautious step into the room, and I nodded as he proceeded to take a seat at the end of my bed, just in front of where my feet lay hidden beneath the covers.

"Look, I'm sorry about my attitude today. I know your nervous about this whole mission, I shouldn't be so careless."

"I'm not nervous." I quickly defended, sitting up and folding my arms across my singlet-clad chest.

"Please, Natasha, I know it may seem unbelievable to you, but I can get a better read on you then you think." He murmured with a half smile. I frowned at him and he shifted slightly on the bed, bringing his legs up and folding them under him so he was facing me.

"The Council really want me dead." I whispered after a while, staring blankly ahead.

"Yeah, they do," he chuckled, and I shot him a warning glare that silenced him almost instantly.

"Can I ask you something?" he mumbled after a while. I nodded, raising an eyebrow. "How old are you, really?"

I was taken slightly aback by his question, but then it became clear to me that I hadn't been legally assigned as a working agent at S.H.I.E.L.D and that all the basic information on me was probably estimated or non-existence.

"I turned seventeen sometime two months ago."

His eyes widened slightly. "Sometime? You don't know the date?"

"No. The only reason I know my age is because every year at the same time I was given a new, harder and far more gruesome task to complete to match my age and capability. It took a while to catch onto, but I learnt over time."

He nodded and looked down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs slightly.

"The Council… they mentioned us having the upper hand because you have enhancements… what did they mean?"

Shit.

I was hoping he'd forget about it.

It's not like it was a great big secret, I would have just preferred him not knowing about the things they did to me. I was afraid of him treating me different, or thinking I was weird, even though it was totally out of character to be afraid of someone's opinions on me, but I just felt I needed to impress the man who chose to make a different call.

"The Red Room were involved in scientific recreation not long after Captain America went under. They tried to replicate the Super Soldier Serum, and came very very close to succeeding. It took… a lot of testing to get even a little bit close to creating the same effect… testing that will mar my body forever. Each of the Black Widow's were injected with the serum at a young age, and it came with it's fare share of advantages on our behalf."

"What do you mean?" he whispered, leaning forward slightly, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

"My agility is greater then an Olympic gold medallist, I can easily coordinate my body with balance, flexibility and dexterity. My reaction time is enhanced and peaked with human efficiency and capability. I can dodge a bullet at point blank range. My bodily tissues have been augmented to superhuman development. I posses exceptional durability, strength, endurance and stamina. I am infertile, immune to most illnesses and it takes _a lot _to get me intoxicated. That's just a basic overview, something I heard all the doctors talking about during the operation. Even _I _don't know everything about myself."

Clint's mouth was slightly agape and suddenly he looked quite afraid of me. I smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"I can also mask my emotions perfectly and manipulate without even trying. Does that scare you, Agent Barton?"

He seemed to gather his wits, and his crooked smile appeared on his lips. He chuckled and shook his head. "Actually, no. Once this mission is done, I want to try something with you."

"Oh, and what is that?" I purred, crooking my head to the side.

"I want to spar with you."

.

_I found the information about Natasha's enhancements on youtube, some man got over excited and posted her whole life story in the comments and I screen shotted them just in case I needed them in the future. What a smart cookie I am ;) _

_Anyway, this was just a fill-in chapter, before all the fun begins! Leave a review if you want a faster update!_


	7. Chapter 7

"So are you sure these will work?"

"Yeah, it's Stark Tech."

She nodded in understanding, folding the two thick parkas and stuffing them into one of the three water resistant bags. She ran her finger over the _Stark Enterprises _patch sewed onto the bag before turning to face me.

"Do we have everything?"

"Laptops, bombs, weapons, food and water, warm clothes, communicators…" I counted each off on my fingers and she rolled her eyes at me, raising an eyebrow before walking out of the Tech Room and coming back with two wetsuits slung over her arm with goggles and flippers hooked on her fingers.

"We wont be swimming far without these." She smirked, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"We shouldn't be swimming at all."

"Do you regret bringing me in now?"

My head snapped towards her and I narrowed my eyes as she stared blankly up at me.

"No."

She raised her eyebrow momentarily before turning the zip up the bags. She slung two over her shoulders and threw one to me, which I caught easily as I followed her out of the room and down the too many halls of base.

She'd been acting weird all morning, as if she were a mistake and that I could back down whenever I wanted to. I knew she was scared and regretful to be betraying Mother Russia, but she was more then happy to be taking down the organization that put a bad name on it in the first place.

She was going to have to try a little harder then that to make me regretful, however. I made my decision loud and clear, and although it was the wrong decision in all the right ways, I have to face the consequence… of swimming in ice-cold water in the place that I was most likely going to die in.

Still, I didn't regret it.

Coulson seemed to be warming up to her more and more everyday, seeing the young girl behind her mature features and cold eyes. For the past week he's been giving her pep talks and advice, hell, he wasn't even that nice to me on my first mission!

Fury really _was_ using the Council's lack of planning as a loophole in the mission. Yes, the two of us (and _just_ the two of us) will be executing the plan on our very own right under their noses with no help from anyone else, but with much more advanced technological help and a hint of sneakiness to ensure at least a small amount of safety on this suicidal mission.

I actually felt rather excited to see if we came out dead or alive.

But she wasn't excited. She was determined, and although she'd deny it, she was a scared little girl who was fighting for the life that was stolen from her.

It was quite sad, actually.

_Really _sad.

And the sadness and loss and loneliness that she has had to face is what made me determined to walk out of this mission with her by my side.

.

Fury watched from his one good eye as the two agents boarded their jet with a nod of their heads. Coulson was hurriedly explaining to Romanoff how to use the comm links at the foot of the platform, Barton just rolling his eyes and tugging her by the elbow and waving goodbye to his worried handler.

"How do you think it'll go?" he asked as we watched the jet take flight and soar in the sky until it faded into a tiny black dot far into the distance. I glanced down at him as he removed his glasses and tucked them into the collar of his suit with a glazed look over his eyes.

For once, I didn't have a certain answer to this constant question. How will it go? I didn't know. Will one of the best agents at S.H.I.E.L.D ever return alive? Was his different call worth the sacrifice?

"I'm not sure, Coulson."

He looked up at me with a grim expression, a slight frown forming on his brow as he considered the death of his agent. I knew they shared and father-son bond, no matter how much Coulson claimed that it was unprofessional.

"Well, he better come back." He sighed, rubbing his temple.

"And why's that?"

"I have a hell of a lot of paper work for him to fill out for me."

He turned and walked off the runway and towards base. I chuckled and threw one last glance to the direction that they were flying in, praying to whoever was listening that they'd make it back alive to prove that goddamned Council that they weren't always right.

.

We buried our parachutes in the blinding white snow and watched as the jet took off back into the direction we first came.

"So, now what?"

"We trek it." I sighed, crouching to pull out the white parkas in the bag I was carrying. We shrugged them on and pulled the hoodies tight around our heads, blocking some of the harsh cold wind that bit at our skin. Aside from the black of our uniform that covered our legs and bottom halves, we mingled with the snow well enough to keep the unwanted eye from seeing.

"Do you know where we're going?"

I shot him a look, smiling at how the snowflakes caught on his long lashes. "Of course."

I led us towards the outskirts of the forest, the trees almost completely white in the blanket of snow. I kept tabs on the direction we were heading, how many paces we were to take before we made a turn, which trail was the most safest to tread through and how long we'd been wandering around for. We kept silent for quite some time, until Clint decided to spark up a conversation.

"How do you know the area so well?"

I frowned as I skimmed my hand across the bark of a tree, the same one I'd done to so many times to before.

"They used to dump us in all sort of remote area's outside of base. I've travelled along these paths more times then I can count. It's pretty stupid of them, I suppose, but I guess they never expected one of their most trusted spies to turn sides and use their sick schemes against them."

He nodded and shifted slightly under the weight of the two heavy bags he was carrying on both shoulders, and I sighed, grabbing the heaviest one and swapping it for the lighter one I was carrying.

"Thanks."

The wind started to pick up and the snow became heavier as it howled past our faces. We'd been walking for hours, the occasional question shared between the two of us when things got too quiet.

Clint's lips were starting to tremble and I could hear the chatter of his teeth beside me.

"I hate the cold." He hissed, and I turned and smirked up at him.

"It's not that bad."

"Oh please, if only you could see how red your cheeks were and how much you're actually shaking."

"I am well aware of that; I've just learnt how to shut it all out."

"_How?"_

I paused mid-stride and thought for a moment.

"Years and years of practice."

The look he was giving me! With his big stormy eyes that showed so much sympathy that I had to look away, not used to actually being cared about by another human being. What was that fluttering feeling in my stomach? Why did it make me uneasy when his eyes sparkled like that? Why was it suddenly becoming hard to breath, like his eyes could hold a steel grip on my lungs?

"We're going to get them back for what they did to you." He whispered, placing a hand on my shoulder, sending little sparks down my body that ignited my cold bones. My intake of breath was a little ragged, and a small smile was beginning to form on his lips… his trembling lips…

"Natasha?"

I snapped out of my thoughts and quickly regained composure, shaking his hand off my shoulder with a curt nod and restarting the walk through the trees and snow. He didn't say another word, just followed silently behind me, before I stopped in my tracks and hand to push him back before he went tumbling down the sharp slope into the rocks below.

"Do you see it?" I crouched down beside him as he leant up on his elbows from the fall, squinting in the wind and hardly spotting the small black silhouette in the distance of a grand building out in the middle of nowhere.

He nodded and glanced up at me, eyes wandering to all the flyaway strands of hair that blew about my face in a flurry of red. I quickly tucked them behind my ears before he could reach out and do it himself.

"The lakes not far from here. A couple of miles at the most. We have to make our way down here first, and then stay in the boarder of the trees to avoid being spotted… then we go under."

He tensed at my words but mumbled his agreement and hauled himself up, weighing the bags in his hands. "What are we going to do with these? They'll only drag me down."

"Here," I found the most clear alignment of rocks, a bumpy pathway that would cause the less damaged to our equipment. I kicked the first one down, then the second, and the third, and we stood and watched as they went tumbling down the steep slope and landing at the bottom.

He chuckled. "I swear, if you broke my bow and arrows-"

"You can learn how to use a gun." I finished, hauling myself over the edge of the slope and beginning the dangerous climb down below.

"As a matter of fact, I know very well how to use a gun."

I scoffed and watched him work his way down to level next to me, a serious look in his eyes.

"No, really, they don't call me Hawkeye for nothing. That's how I got a spot in S.H.I.E.L.D in the first place, because of my aim and accuracy."

"So your also a sniper?"

He flashed me a grin and continued his way downwards, and I followed in pursuit.

The sharp rocks were tearing holes in our thick white gloves, and beneath the fabric I could see Clint's flesh, which was a dull red from the coldness of the snow and the pressure being put onto them from the climb. He cursed often, about how rocks are stupid and should never have been invented, and I had to hold back the laughs so he didn't think he was actually funny and got a big head out of it all.

We finally reached the base of the slope, and he ran down to the three bags and unzipped the ones that carried all our weapons. He pulled out his bow case and ran his fingers over the metal of his beloved weapon, letting out a sigh of relief before checking none of his arrows had snapped.

"Child…" I muttered under my breath, and he threw me a look and poked his tongue out at me to prove my point correct when he knew everything was okay.

Zipping up the bag and handing me one while he slung the other two over his shoulders, we re-began our trek through the snowy terrain.

"How old are you?" I asked out of no-where, unable to hold my curiosity for much longer. He was like a child in a mans body, playful and silly and no doubt ably _stupid_, and reckless and immature and clingy… but he was also the complete opposite of each of those things! It was driving me insane!

"I'm twenty-three."

Oh. So he wasn't that much older then me, then. I glanced at him as he stared straight ahead. He had strong eyes. Always watching, with a childish grin plastered on his face most of the time. He had sun kissed skin that any girl would die for and his muscle build was quite the sight, especially in the upper region of his arms that looked so strong and powerful that I was just dying to see if I could put up a fight against them.

We continued walking in silence, then, and the unseen sun was beginning to set, just like I had planned. Clint looked a little worried as the darkness became more and more dense, but I ignored it when the frozen lake appeared not far ahead and the building rose sky-high in front of us.

He let out a low whistle, and I grabbed him and quickly rushed us over to the south end, where the building cut into the lake and down below, the sewage system.

"Will we be spotted?" he asked as I knelt down and yanked him with me and began opening up the lighter bag.

"Do you see any windows?"

He looked up, sharp eyes scanning the wall of the building. Touché to my word, there were no windows on this side, and he mumbled something under his breath before he helped me pull out the swimming equipment.

I stood up and shrugged off my parka, and I unzipped my cat suit to reveal the wet suit underneath it. Clint did the same, shrugging out of his vest uniform and pants, looking reluctant to fold them into the bag. I threw him the BTH Communicators and he began starting them up as I moved towards the ice, pulling out the laser and finding a weak spot in the ice.

"Be careful." Clint called out as I took a step onto the slippery surface, balancing easily as I knelt down on my knees and activated the laser. I cut a large hole into the ice, large enough to fit two people in at the same time, and pulled out the large chunk that was no longer of use and throwing it in the snow. The dark water sloshed about the edges of the hole, spilling over and wetting my knees. It was _freezing. _

I nodded to myself and turned back to Clint, who was now slipping on his flippers and had his goggles atop his head. I quickly did the same, hands shaking from the cold but never fumbling. He handed me one of the mouthpieces.

"Don't activate the oxygen flow until we're in the water." He said as he wrapped his own around his head and secured it over his mouth. I did the same and quickly began tying each of the bags together with a rope and buckling the ends to the waistline of our suits.

"It'll be easier to swim with them and make sure we don't drift apart at the same time." I explained when I saw his raised eyebrow. He nodded and we made our way to the hole.

"Why is it so big?"

"We're going in together to save the last amount of body warmth we have before we go under." I said, sitting down and slowly sliding my flipper feet into the water, slicing the thin layer of ice that had already started to form. My muscles tightened at the cold temperature and I let out a ragged breath until both my legs were dangling in the hole. Clint swallowed and did the same, hissing under his breath.

"My poor balls…"

"Gross."

He chuckled as I grabbed the three bags and lowered them into the water one by one, watching them disappear into the darkness of the icy liquid. Clint passed me one of the torches and I shined it into the water and saw the bags floating innocently down below.

"Ready?"

He gulped but nodded, and slowly we began sliding the rest of our bodies into the hole, the water over flowing and spilling over the edges. As soon as we were mostly submerged, we began concentrating on our breathing that was coming out in ragged noises and in white little clouds that faded into the air.

Clint suddenly pulled me close to him as we treaded the water, and I felt my eyes widen slightly. He was shaking violently and his lips were a light shade of blue from under the mouthpiece. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me firmly against his chest, and I frowned at myself when I slowly wound my arms around his neck and held on.

My body was numb and we began kicking our legs to gain movement, and I tried to ignore the sudden warm feeling pooling into my stomach as we moved up and down against each other as we kicked. He was looking down at me with a burning intensity in his eyes, his lashes coated with tiny snowflakes that settled onto the fine hairs. His face was only inches from mine, his hands suddenly burning into the skin on my waist beneath the wet suit…

"We should get going." He mumbled, his voice slightly husky, as he pulled away, the electric surge that had coursed through my body cutting short. I kept my face neutral and nodded, the cold water suddenly bringing me to my senses. He flicked his own torch to life before winking at me, pressing the red button on the mouthpiece with a quiet _whooshing _sound that activated the oxygen, he ducked into the water and I quickly did the same.

.

I watched as her lithe body glided through the water easily, how she kicked her powerful legs and I had to try to catch up with her. The bags were only weighing us down slightly, and my whole body felt like it was going to quake apart with how much I was shaking. My bones and joints were stiff and cracking with each movement I made.

I tried not to ponder too much on how close and how good it felt to hold her in my arms.

"_I can see the grating." _Natasha's voice cut through my thoughts, and I followed the direction her torch was shining in and saw the outline of the grating that leads up into the sewer and land.

"_Finally." _I breathed, still not used to being able to talk under water. We kicked a little harder then, her red hair floating about her head and making her look like a goddess.

By the time we'd reached the grating, there was only fifty-three minutes of oxygen control left. Natasha pulled out her laser and began burning a manhole into the thick metal, hooking her feet underneath one of the bars to hold her in place and stop her from floating around. I yanked the excess metal out of the way, and we grabbed our bags and shoved them through first before we swam into the more murkier and dirty water.

I clicked on my earpiece and waited for the signal to clear.

"_Coulson, we're in the building."_

_._

_part two will be up shortly, but my brother is deciding to steal the laptop from me and I have to cut it short :( _

_review! _


	8. Chapter 8

The waters soon changed from clear and icy to murky and thick. The bags were soon now being dragged across the floor of the sewer rather then floating behind us, and soon our feet were touching the ground that was littered with rocks and glass and a whole lot of other unidentified objects. I refused to break the surface just yet, and Clint cursed over and over and if he kept it up I was going to rip his mouthpiece off of him and let him drown.

It wasn't until we'd reached the furthest end of the sewage and a rusty, weak ladder came in sight. I allowed us to stand up straight and finally meet fresh air, but wanted to duck back under when the cold air hit my face. Clint let out a victorious _woohoo _and I resisted the urge to slap him. We threw the bags over the edge and followed up on the ladder, and by the time we were sitting on the stone floor, ice droplets had already formed through my hair.

Clint flashed his light in my face like the obnoxious jerk he was, and I squinted at the brightness. "So, now what?"

I rolled my eyes and started removing the flippers off my feet, taking off the goggles and mouthpiece and hooking them all on my fingers. "The furnace room shouldn't be too far from here, so we walk."

He groaned and started removing his own gear, his shaky fingers faltering ever so slightly. My own body was shuddering and convulsing in waves of cold, but that wasn't something I wasn't used to.

We slung the bags over our shoulders and began walking through the tunnel; passing a gushing pipe that splashed into the water we had recently been swimming in (and the contents didn't look promising.) I could basically feel Clint quaking beside me as our flashlights beamed ahead of us, and the occasional rat made a scrawny escape from the sudden light. By the time we reached the door that led to the furnace room, I was sure I was never going to gain feeling in my fingers and toes again and Clint's teeth were probably rubbed to dust against all the clattering that was going on.

"S-s-shit N-nat," Clint gasped beside me, and my head whipped to the side.

"What d-did you just call me?" I internally scolded myself from the small slip in my words.

"Nat?" he raised an eyebrow, and I rolled my eyes before turning to the locked door and staring with the padlock. My fingers were shaking and making progress very long, but soon the lock fell to the floor with a clatter and the door creaked open.

Clint basically pushed past me and ran into the room, that was lit was an orange glow from the burning furnace against the wall that sent heat radiating through the entire place. I took a cautious step in, dagger drawn just in case. The room looked exactly the same as it did the last time I was… sent here. A single mattress in the corner, a tap by the door we'd just come through and a drain in the centre of the room. There was a small stairway leading to a door and the thick dust that hadn't been touched indicated that the furnace room had remained vacant for a very long time.

Clint had abandoned the bags and was now standing in front of the furnace.

"Look at this beast, it's ancient!" he chuckled, mood instantly lightened by the sudden warmth after hours of freezing snow and icy water. I nodded, not really paying attention to him as I dumped my bag next to the others and moved over to where he stood.

The wetsuit clung to my body, and the ice droplets that had formed in my hair were slowly melting and dripping to the floor. The heat radiating from the furnace was an instant relief, and I made quick duty in removing my swimwear.

"Nat? Oh- shit! A bit of warning would have been nice!" Clint mumbled, turning away as I dumped the wet suit on the floor.

"Oh please, you've seen this all before." I scoffed, motioning to the bikini I wore. He didn't turn back, though, and I rolled my eyes before walking over to the bag containing all our clothes. I pulled out two towels, tossing one to Clint and listening as he unzipped his own suit.

It made me stiff at how hard I had to try to stay focused on the task at hand.

I dried myself properly with the towel and ignored the rustling from behind, pulling out my cat suit and a fresh set of underwear. I got changed quickly, unashamed of my nudity (which Clint tried to ignore) before rummaging through the second bag and pulling out the food and water.

Clint got changed into his own uniform before joining me. We sat cross-legged and dug into the dry biscuits and bread, reviving our energy after the trek to this damned place.

"What's it like?" Clint asked after a moment. "You know, being back?"

I frowned. I'd been trying to ignore the raging sensation coursing through my body at being back in this hellhole after my short period of freedom. I didn't reply straight away, just stared holes into the ground as he waited patiently for an answer.

"It's like a nightmare is just waiting to be formed." I replied, and he swallowed his mouthful with an understanding nod. I shook my head. "It's like all the demons of my past are just waiting outside that door, ready to ambush me. There's a voice inside my head, telling me to kill you and go back to Ivan and live the life I was born to do…"

He didn't seem fazed by this at all, more accepting then anything. "So what are you going to do?"

"The opposite of what that voice is saying."

He smiled.

.

"She's getting her sleep now. I took first watch. We've already set a timer for the crack of dawn, and I think she was counting the time because I have no idea how she knows when dawn is."

"_She knows what she's doing. Just follow the plan, don't do anything stupid. Fury… he's depending on you. He's been waiting for an opportunity to outsmart the Council ever since he got the job as Director. And… I think he has fait in Natasha."_

"He should," I mumbled, throwing a glance at her sleeping form. She had her back turned to me on the small mattress, and this blanket covering her body. Her breathing was slow and even, but I knew she was listening.

"_I'm worried about you, Clint." _I frowned. Phil never called me Clint unless it was something important. When I didn't answer, he went on. _"I see the way you look at her, you see more in her then anyone else does."_

"Yeah, your right."

"_Just… don't get your hopes up with her. She may deny this, but she's just a girl, with childhood trauma and a past that will haunt her for life. I'd hate to see you get compromised and throw away everything you've worked for-"_

"Whoa, why the sudden fatherly talk, Phil?"

There was a long pause, and I wondered if the communications had blacked out suddenly.

"_What do you see when you look at her?"_

I sighed and glanced over at her once more, a small but sad smile creeping up onto my lips.

"I see myself in her, Phil."

.

I felt myself pondering on his words for quite some time, frowning at the wall as their conversation changed to something more casual about the weather and how Clint's balls were. Soon, though, I turned the comm link off and tuned out Clint's voice, closing my eyes, wondering how he saw himself in me when he looked into them, and I realized that this man has a much darker past then meets the eye.

.

I wasn't sure when I had eventually drifted off to sleep, but all too soon Clint was by my side and gently shaking me awake.

Bad idea.

My eyes snapped open and I instantly grabbed the hand that was shaking my shoulder and sitting up so I could launch myself on the attacker. He grunted but didn't put up a fight as I slammed him onto the ground and pinned his arms above his head, knees on either side of him. His eyes flashed with fear and then humor, our breathing heaving.

"Well, I'll make a mental note to never do that again." He grunted, chuckling slightly. I growled and stood up, leaving him on the floor. He sat up and rubbed his head with a groan.

"Get as much sleep as you can, you'll need it." I said with a yawn, sitting by our bags like he had. He mumbled something under his breath before climbing onto the hard mattress, his soft snoring soon filling the room. I drew my knees up to my chest and tried to ignore the guilt and fear that crept up on me at being alone.

The hours ticked by painfully slow, and I'd gone from balled up to pacing the hot room, to sitting by Clint's sleeping body and resting my head against the wall. I hadn't gotten enough sleep to feel fully replenished but it was enough to get me through what lays ahead.

Clint murmured something in his sleep and rolled over so he was now facing me. I thought that maybe he'd woken up until his soft snoring filled the room once again and the frowns that had formed on his face relaxed.

Did I look that peaceful when I slept?

Hesitantly, I reached out and ran my fingers lightly through his short, sandy-blonde hair. It was softer then it looked. It brushed against my fingers as I curved my hand down until my fingers were tracing the side of his face, and I tried not to jump out of my skin when his hand slowly came up and entwined in my own fingers. I didn't even realize he had woken up.

"Something wrong?" he whispered without opening his eyes, pressing his face further into my hand as his fingers unlaced from mine and traced down to my wrist, holding me there. I shook my head even though he couldn't see me.

"I just…" I just what? Came and sat next to you and touched you while you slept?

"Yeah." He grumbled, and I found myself rubbing my thumb over the skin on his cheek repeatedly. He smiled softly at the touch.

"You should… get back to sleep."

"How much longer 'til dawn?"

I checked my watch. "Forty five minutes."

He chuckled again and shook his head. "I don't think I'll get much sleep anyway. Besides, this is better."

I frowned, Coulson's words echoing in my ears. _Don't get your hopes up with her._

He must have been thinking the same thing, because his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at me, confusion mingling with hope.

"You know," he started, his hand trailing from my wrist, down my arm and back up again, rubbing it slowly. His hand and fingers were calloused and the rough skin tickled me slightly. "I'm gonna have to start getting used to your mood-swings. One moment your wild and cold and just about to kill me, the next your sitting by my bed and showing _affection."_

He said the last word as if that emotion wasn't made for me.

I shrugged and pulled my hand away, ignoring the sadness that crept over his features and the way his grip tightened slightly before he let go. I stood up and grabbed the small toiletry bag from the larger bag, taking out the dental necessities and using the rusty tap as my water supply. When I was done and smelling minty fresh, I turned to find Clint sitting in the bed, watching before he stood up and did the same.

"So," I huffed, pulling my hair into a ponytail and tying it atop my head, a few stray curls bouncing around my face. "You ready to blow this place up?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"Because that means you have to leave me."

I frowned. "You know we cant just set the bomb off under here. We wont be able to escape, and I doubt the explosion would even reach the upper floors; they'd just collapse and cause some construction damage, not death. We have to do this the right way."

"Yeah, yeah, you sound like Coulson."

I winked and bent down to grab the laptop.

"Don't try to look at my ass too much."

"Nope, can't promise you that."

.

_Is it weird that I listen to Jeremy Renner singing New York State of Mind like 4-5 times a day? Because I'm, like, in love. And has anyone seen Hansel and Gretel yet? Is it good? (no spoilers, just opinions)_

_;) _

_Oh and I cant forget my continuous plead for reviews! C'mon, it's not that hard!_


	9. Chapter 9: Mission Part 1

"Do you know what your doing, Barton?"

I froze for a fraction of a second before continuing my work with the numerous wires poking in all directions from the tiny but powerful explosive device. Flashes of my past crept into my mind and I had to push them out.

"It's not the first time." Was all I said in return. She didn't say anything else, just continued typing furiously on the laptop. Soon the bomb was set and the security systems were hacked, and they had one more thing to do.

"Coulson, I have visual." I said, activating my comm link.

"_Send me the codes, I'll gain access to all the main rooms and you can blow the place up."_

"How far is extraction?" Natasha said, coming to kneel beside me and glance over the dangerous explosive sitting in front of us.

"_Three miles north. Once I give them the go they'll be at the location you gave them to pick you up." _Coulson replied, the sound of distant tapping coming through the comm as he typed on his own laptop.

"When your in position, strap this beauty to a secure surface, press the red button and type in the activation code. We'll have half an hour to get the hell out of here and get out of range, so as soon as it's activated, get out."

"And what about you?" she said, glancing at me. "How will you get out?"

"I'll be hot on your heels, darlin'" I winked, and she narrowed her eyes slightly before turning away. Was that a blush I saw?

"_Okay, I'm in. Are the two of you ready?"_

Natasha was already up and double checking all her endless amount of weapons, gently picking up the bomb and strapping it into her utility belt. I set my bow and arrows and two hand guns beside me, just in case, before getting comfortable and sitting with the laptop on my lap.

"Ready." She murmured, more to herself then anyone else. I could see she was nervous behind the blank look she wore on her face. I sighed and set the laptop aside.

"Hey, you alright?" I stood up and came to stand in front of her.

"Of course I am, you idiot." She spat back, a smirk on her face. It didn't reach her eyes.

"We'll make it out of this." I nodded reassuringly, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. Her hand reached up to snatch it away, but she fought her instincts and instead wrapped her small fingers around my wrist and slid her hand over my own.

"I hope so." It was nothing more then a whisper, and her unexpected bone-crushing hug knocked the breath out of me. Her arms wound around my neck and her breath tickled my skin. I smiled and hugged her back, burying my face in her red hair, breathing in its rare scent.

She pulled back when Coulson cleared his throat in our ears, smiling up at me with a nod. She grabbed her gun out of her holster, winked and took the small set of stairs two at a time and closing the door silently behind her. I sighed and took my former position, ignoring Coulson's breathing in my ear as I watched her through the security footage, walking down the halls.

"_I've disabled all of their visual, frozen the screens so they don't realize in a rush. She should be alright."_

"Thanks, Coulson." I murmured, watching her walk down the halls that held too many nightmares for one person to bear. She was quick and quiet, the perfect weapon.

"Widow, passerby on your left, take 'em down."

.

I'd killed about twelve guards by now and I hadn't even been walking for more then twenty minutes. I didn't recognize any of them, but by the look of surprise on their faces before death came by, they remembered me.

I tried to kill them clean and quietly, snapping their necks and dumping their bodies in the closest closet or behind a pillar. It was eerie to be walking down these halls, memories of being dragged by my hair or walking through them, bloody and naked after punishment, but knowing that these halls will soon be blown to ash was as much comfort as I was going to get.

And his voice. The way it dripped in concern every time he warned me of a guard that was to turn the corner. He tried to hide it with a joke or a sarcastic comment, but it was more then noticeable. Coulson used his access to the systems to unlock the heavy doors, and the higher and further I travelled, the more uneasy I began to feel.

Then I stopped outside of a particularly large door, which had blood smears all over it. The handle was rusty and I could remember all the times I'd opened this entryway, the comfort I had found in the room beyond. Clint noticed my hesitation.

"_Something wrong?"_ he whispered in my ear. I closed my eyes and shook my head, well aware that he'd seen it. Coulson muttered something and I heard the lock latch open, and I quickly opened up the door before I changed my mind.

The thirteen plain beds were all spread out through the room just like they'd been the last time I'd been here. The beds were like hospital cots, the metal rusty and scratched and splattered with blood. The white, rough sheets were tucked into the sides with one hard white pillow on top, a plain bedside table beside each bed. I walked over to the one in the right corner on the opposite side of the cold room.

Opening the draw on the bedside table, I pulled out the ugly brown chest that smelt of mothballs and dirt. I'd lost the key long ago, and made quick word to pick the small padlock and let it fall to the floor with a soft _clang. _

The four contents in the chest were enough to send a wave of emotions coursing through my body. My fingers, for the first time in years, trembled as I reached into the box and picked out each of the items.

The first, a hair pin that I'd worn on my first mission. It was silver, the fine metal dulled from years of sitting in this box. The green emeralds were all placed in the shape of a flower, and I rubbed my thumb over the jewels that sparkled in the light. I'd kept this in memory of my first mission, which had gone completely as planned. _Throw away the evidence, _we'd been taught, but for some strange reason, I'd felt the urge to keep this. I placed it in my hair.

The second, was a bright blue feather. I blew the dust from it, brushing my fingers over the soft edges. I'd been training outside by the forest, thrown to the ground by my teacher after a poor fight and left to find my own way home. The weather was warmer then, and as I followed the footprints in the snow and wiped the blood from my nose, I crossed paths with a lone blue jay.

It was injured and helplessly fluttering in the snow, letting out a strangled cry as it tried to make flight. My first thought was to put it out of its misery and kill the pathetic creature with a stone or even my boot, but the look in its beady eyes pulled at my heart. I scooped it in my arms and hid it in one of the sheds back at base, bringing it food and water everyday as it slowly began to heal.

It was my own little secret, and it was so different to be helping something live rather then making it die. By the time it was fully healed, it had shed some feathers and left a beautiful blue one the size of my hand. I put it in my pocket and cradled the bird in my hands, sneaking back to where I'd first found it and throwing it into the air. It flailed at first, but soon was gliding through the air and diving in and out of the trees. I watched it fly out of sight and longed for someone to help put me back together and set me free.

The third, a seashell the size of my palm. It was my first time out of Europe when I'd found it, somewhere in the Mediterranean islands. The sea was a fantastic place to be by, the dark blue water and the soft sand between my toes. The warm weather had definitely become something I was fond of, and throughout the entire beach, there were only a few seashells. Most of them were broken or ugly, but I came across one that looked like a snail shell. It was white and had brown stripes across it, like a tiger, and it's smooth surface glinted in the sunlight. I stuffed it into my pockets and killed my mark like I hadn't felt free at all.

The fourth was something that stirred me the most, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't exactly remember how I had gotten a hold of it. But this particular item pulled at my heartstrings the most. It was nothing more then the stem of a rose. No petals, no leaves, just a withered, thorned stem about the size of my forefinger. It still smelt like roses, and when I concentrated really hard on how I had claimed this item, I saw the figure of a man. Not clear enough to distinguish who he was, but enough to see his dark brown hair and silver arm.

"_Widow, there's someone headed straight for the room your in. She's walking fast, too."_

I frowned. Which _'she' _would it be?

I quickly placed the four small items in a pocket on my utility belt, clenching my fists at the sting that the thorns had caused by stabbing into my palm. I placed the chest back in the draw and closed it, drawing my body behind a pillar a peaking around the corner.

The door creaked open, and I sighed when I saw who it was. Her blond hair had been cropped shorter then last time, and her brown eyes looked duller then usual. She glanced around the room, always aware, and I knew that she knew she wasn't alone.

She acted indifferent, though, and quickly composed herself to innocent. She walked to the bed two rows away from my own, her eyes flickering momentarily to the small broken padlock lying on the floor. _Shit. _

I glanced over at the second door, not too far away from me, and bit my lip in concentration as I tried to figure a way out. I could hear Clint's deep breathing in my ear and Coulson's never ending typing, but concentrated on her.

"Whoever you are, you may as well come out. I know you're in here." She murmured in Russian, never taking her eyes away from the wall she was staring at. I rolled my eyes and took a step out. She froze.

"Natalia?" she breathed, my old name hitting me hard. I remained blank as she stood up from the bed, frowning slightly and looking very uncomfortable.

"Veronika." I replied in my mother tongue. She gaped like a fish out of water.

"Your supposed to be dead."

Now it was my turn to frown. "How so?"

"He told us you failed to come back from your mission, he said you were burnt to ashes along with the building."

I smirked now. So my plan had worked after all when I made my escape.

"Where are the others?" I changed the subject, motioning to the twelve other beds. She swallowed and suddenly her eyes turned cold and stony. My fingers twitched for my gun.

"Dead."

I sighed. Of course, the arena. They would have had plenty of time to put their words into actions since I'd left.

"You won?"

She narrowed her eyes. "There's only one Black Widow."

I sighed. "Well, at the moment, there are two."

She bared her teeth and took a threatening step forward. "Why are you here? How are you alive?" she demanded, looking me up and down. Her eyes froze on my shoulder.

I stiffened as her intense gaze flashed with anger and she glared up at me. Suddenly the S.H.I.E.L.D emblem felt like it was burning through my shoulder. Stupid thing.

"You changed sides…" she whispered to herself, and I nodded, staring back blankly.

"There's more to life then you think, Veronika." I said, and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"No, don't _do _that! I know how you work, Natalia," she spat my name like it was vile. "You'll manipulate me, you'll try to persuade me that there is a way out, and when I turn my back for just a second, you'll strike! That's how you did it, that's how you always came out of missions unscathed. Your silvertongue and strange technique in fighting is what always made him favour you! But all these years, I was right! I always said that you were going to do wrong by our country, and here's my proof. Natalia Romanova has betrayed Mother Russia!"

I took a deep breath, but she continued.

"You would have one, you know, if you weren't such a _coward. _We all knew it. But you left, and now I am condemned with this life while you are off working for an _American _organization. Traitor!"

"You know, you always talked too much."

I lashed out, running forward and throwing her into the wall. She gasped and yanked at my hair, but thankfully it was tied up and remained out of her blind reach. I slammed her arms against the wall, her elbow smacking against the cement and causing her to scream. She made a move to knee me in the stomach, but I pushed her leg down before she made contact and punched her in the face.

She slumped down and I took a step back, watching as she regained herself. She gripped her gun in her holster but I kicked it out of her hand and yanked her into a standing position.

"Come on, you said it yourself, there's only _one _Black Widow. Who's it going to be? You killed all the other girls, so why not me, huh?" I teased, stepping towards her. She glared at me and spat blood onto the floor.

"You are an evil girl, Natalia." She murmured, and I suddenly felt a burning pain in my left abdomen. Looking down, I saw the small dagger protruding from my body.

"Cheating bitch," I breathed, yanking out the dagger and whipping it towards her. It scratched past her face and left a satisfying slice on her cheek.

"Is that all you got? Oh, I thought you were smarter then that." She taunted, the blood trickling down her face.

"How'd you find it in yourself to kill them? Wasn't Anastasia your best friend?" I changed the subject, and we began circling around each other.

Her eyes flashed with guilt. "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to live."

"So you kill the girls you grew up with?"

"What would you have done?!" she shrieked, throwing a punch that I dodged easily. "You have eleven other deadly girls coming your way in an unfamiliar arena and you have no idea what's going on until you find yourself snapping necks and splitting skulls like we were taught to do?!"

"I would have let them kill me because living with that kind of guilt is not something I would be willing to go through!" I pounced forward, ducking under her swing and side stepping so I was behind her. She gasped and I grabbed both of her arms, twisting them behind her and listening to the satisfying crack and pop they made as they snapped out of their sockets. She screamed.

"But if it means taking down this organization to stop their sick games, then so be it," I breathed in her ear, pushing her to the floor and pulling out my gun.

_Bang. Bang. Bang. _

She lay lifeless on the floor, blood spilling out of her body and her arms tangled in a sickening way. Her brown eyes were wide open and slowly rolling into the back of her head. I turned away and retched on the floor.

It was only then that I remembered my small audience listening into the whole fight. I stiffened and placed my gun back into the holster.

"Clint?"

There was a long pause.

"_I'm here." _

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I knew he didn't see me the same way anymore just by the tone in his voice.

"_We have a change in plan, Natasha." _Coulson said, his voice edgy. _"They know your in there. They've known all along."_

I froze. I could here shuffling from Clint's end of the line.

"_I'm coming up there now."_

"What do we do?" I breathed, panic rising up in me. _This cannot be happening!_

"_I'm feeding them the same false screens as before, and I've disabled all locks. Only the guards and a few passerby's will meet you. Finish it off early, we're on the clock."_

"_How long do we have?" _Clint asked the question that I was about to ask.

"_Probably half an hour, maximum, until they realise the security breach, and another twenty minutes until they can gain access to their systems again and take control over the footage and locks. So less then an hour."_

I spun around when I heard the door open, gun at the ready, but lowered it when I realized who it was.

Clint walked in, without really looking at anything. He threw me one of the bags and unhooked his arrow from his shoulder, holding it at the ready. He was in his vest-suit and looked about as pissed as he could get. Stepping over Veronika's lifeless body, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the room. I followed obediently.

"So, there's only one Black Widow."

It wasn't a question, more of a statement, but I nodded anyway.

When he noticed me favouring my left side, his eyes washed over with concern and he suddenly stopping in his tracks, causing me to bump into him. He knelt in front of me and pressed his hand to my wound, my blood smearing his skin.

"Shit, I didn't know you got stabbed." He breathed, glancing at his hand and then looking up at me. "We need to fix this up."

I shook my head. "No, there's no time for that."

"Natasha-"

"Seriously, Clint. I'm fine! I'm already healing." I lied, pulling him to his feet. He shook his head and made to reach for the bag.

"Clint." He looked up at me as I grab his arm and stopped him from proceeding.

"I'm fine."

.

_The mission will be broken down into 2 or 3 chapters, I'm not sure yet, I'm kinda just going along with it. _

_School has started again (cries) and it was my birthday on the first day. Sucks, right? _

_Anyway, updates will be even more less frequent then they have already been, I'm so sorry. But the more reviews I get, the more I will ditch homework and work on this!_

_Hansel and Gretel has FINALLY come out in Australia, and I'm seeing it Saturday, yay :D Jeremy Renner was in Sydney for the premier, and even though I live in WA I was screaming with joy because WE WERE IN THE SAME COUNTRY HOLY CRAP!_

_Okay, I'm fine, honestly. _

_Well, you know the drill, review review review! _

_P.S who's the mystery rose-stem man? Take a guess ;) _


	10. Chapter 10: Mission Part 2

It was easy enough to block out the searing pain on my side, I'd been through worse and put on a good show at not limping or showing any signs of weakness. I led the way down the halls and Coulson kept us posted, unlocking every door that got in our way while maintaining the enemies security footage for as long as possible.

"How did they know we were in here?" Clint asked as we dragged a hefty guard behind a wide pillar.

"_I'm not sure yet. I hacked into their communication systems, over heard them talking about two intruders and how you would be punished. They were sloppy, though, seemed to want to wait for the two of you to make the first move rather then take you out as soon as possible."_

"No. This organization isn't sloppy. As soon as an intruder was detected, they'd take them down. They even made me do it a couple of times. Ivan's playing with us. He knows it's me."

There was a pause from both men as we slinked silently down the halls and up the stairs. We were nearly there.

"_Who's Ivan?" _Coulson eventually asked.

"He's basically the top gun, chief of this place. He runs the programs and sets the missions. Then there are the others who we never learnt the names of. They aren't here all the time, only see them three or four times a year."

"Well, if they aren't here, how are we going to take them out? Every single victim needs to be destroyed." Clint asked.

"_I'll talk to Fury about it. He'll gather information; send someone on a mission to terminate them. Not the hardest thing to do."_

With a nod that he did or didn't see, we continued up a flight of stairs and turned right at the next entrance.

The last time I was here, there was no right entrance.

Stopping mid-step, I wearily poked my head around the corner. Two guards stood on either side of a huge steel door that bore no handles. They were armed with rifles and were bigger then the other guards we'd taken down.

"Coulson?"

"_Already on it. Bought up screens of this room. It's only new, two or three months old, got no information on what's inside of it, though. It must have been established within the month and a half you've spent at S.H.I.E.L.D. And judging by the security system that would take hours to hack, it's pretty important."_

I shared a long, concerned look with Clint, who's eyes continually flickered to my bleeding wound. He pulled out an arrow from his quiver and knocked it into his bow, looking at me for confirmation. With a nod, he positioned himself against the wall and without even looking, angled his arrow around the corner and shot down one of the two guards.

Stepping out as soon as the thud of the body hit the ground, I took out the second guard by slitting his throat. Not the cleanest way, but definitely thorough, and he fell to the ground with the same look of shock in his eyes.

"Coulson, can you open this door?" I asked, assessing the huge silver door in front of us.

"_Of course I can,"_ he scoffed, typing away. With a loud hiss, the door began to slowly slide open. Pressing ourselves on the wall either side of the opening, I got my gun ready and Clint knocked another arrow into place.

Nodding to each other, we turned and pointed our weapons at any offending foes. The huge white room was empty, and we assessed the whole room before lowering our weapons and inspecting the area.

It stunk of sterile and moth balls. There was an eerie feeling about the way the white room was neatly covered in different types of dental and surgical tools, lining the walls and glinting in the bright light.

There was a single metal bench in the centre of the room, with a small lump covered by a sheet.

No.

_No. _

I felt my heart sink to my toes as I took a hesitant step towards the bench and reached out, clutching the sheet in my fists. Taking a silent but deep breath, I pulled the covers back and had to stop myself from dropping to my knee's and letting out a sob that was dying to escape my throat.

Clint gasped behind me as the tiny body was revealed.

Coulson's typing ceased from the other end of the line.

My own eyes began to prickle with the tears just _begging _to be shed.

It was only a little girl. A couple of months old. Her tiny limbs were limp and her should-be pink body was as white as the sheet. The small tuft of dark hair was flat and dead and the worst part of all were the purple bruises and deep cuts that littered her fragile body and made you wonder what type of _monster _could possibly do such a thing to a small, defenceless baby who never even got to _live!_

"Fuck." I whispered, sadness and despair slowly turning into white rage. "_FUCK!"_

Turning around, I flung every single tool, tore every cupboard open and threw any item I could get my hold on across the room. Screaming curses and roaring with rage, I slowly crumpled to the ground and buried my head in my arms and let myself cry. The emotionless assassin is crying and I don't give two shits about it.

"Natasha…" Clint's calm yet hesitant voice broke the long moment filled with my own sobs and sniffles.

"What the fuck, Clint!" I yelled, snapping my head up and glaring at him. He was looking down at me with concern and sympathy, and had already covered the infant's body back up with the sheet. His throat was wavering, as if holding back his own cries, and he came a knelt beside me, not close enough to touch but close enough to feel his warmth.

"We can take them down, Natasha." He whispered, looking down at his feet.

"No."

His eyes snapped up to mine. "What do you mean?"

"We're changing the plan. I'm taking Ivan down myself. He's fucked with my brain and now he's experimenting with _babies! _I wont have it. I need to see the fear in his eyes when he realises that I am here to kill him. I need to do it myself."

To my surprise, he didn't object.

"I completely understand. We haven't got much time, though. You go after him, and I'll go set the bomb. Meet me back here as soon as you can.

.

It's an overwhelming feeling, once you think about it all.

First, you feel like your living a normal life… a life you were destined for. You don't know what normal is, because the closest thing you've ever had to normal was killing in cold blood and not being able to remember most of it.

Then you find out a man from an American organization is after you, to terminate you, and rumours fly that this is _Hawkeye _who is after you. By some twisted way of faith, he chooses not to kill the most deadly Russian assassin and lets you walk free, wondering what could have possibly changed his mind about you.

That curiosity startles you, and the more you think about his words the more you start to realize that they are true. You can't remember things, you always knew your memory was fuzzy, but now that it's been confirmed, you start to question who you work for. So you go out, you track this man down and try to get more information on him. Your leader notices, and tries to punish you in the worst way possible. That only burns the curiosity deeper. _What is he trying to hide?_

Soon you make it more noticeable that you're following him. Allowing him to get a glimpse at you, playing with his mind until you pucker up the courage to break into his house and repay him in any way possible for letting you live and revealing part of the truth about your organization. But he doesn't _want _that sort of repayment… he doesn't _want _your body. Why?

Then you find out you have to kill the girls you've grown up with. No way in hell will you go through that. So you consider things. Kill yourself? Let them kill you? Should I just win and see what happens? What _will _happen? What are my options?

_He's _an option.

So you set up a plan. 'Killed in action' so to speak. Fake your death and book a flight to America. Tell this man who's name you don't even know that you want to change sides and hope for your better judgement that this was the right choice and that you wont die.

Everything's going good, then. Your accepted faster then you thought possible. But good things don't happen to people with a ledger that is gushing red. To your utter dismay, you are sent back to the place where your childhood was stolen, where you endured tortures beyond comparison and had your memory stolen, where your worst nightmares came true. You find out the girls you've grown up with are _dead _and then you have to kill the last one yourself! Fine. You can deal with that.

But then you discover the most horrific thing that could possibly happen on this earth.

Babies being experimented on and tortured and enduring unbearable pain… all for what? She was dead and no matter what you know that you will never be able to wipe the memory of her scarred and battered body from your mind like they did all those times in this hellhole.

You're hot with anger. Your knuckles are bone white and no body is going to stop you from killing the man responsible for every single nightmare in your life. He _will _look into my eyes as the life is bled out of him by my hands, and when it is all finished, you'll leave.

You'll leave the Red Room. You'll leave S.H.I.E.L.D.

And you'll leave _him. _

And then you start to question why your heart sinks at the thought, and you realise that in this short period of time, you've started to grow attached to the man that gave you a second chance, and you feel like kicking yourself in the gut for being so weak.

Overwhelming was an understatement.

.

_Alright, the mission's nearly over… it'll be over a lot quicker and the big super emotional and touchy chapter I have in store will be up with the more reviews I get, so if you want to see that chapter… REVIEW!_


	11. Chapter 11: Mission Part 3

"_Do you really think this was a such a good idea, guys? Splitting up?"_

"Coulson, just calm down. We don't have the time to do this together, and she wants revenge. She wants to make it personal."

"_Damn straight I do." _Natasha's icy voice muttered in my ear. Grinning, I took down a skinny lab-rat who was holding all types of vials in his arms and didn't bother to hide his body because we were blowing this place sky high soon.

I knew without even seeing him that Coulson was pursing his lips in distaste, but he didn't say anything else and soon I was kicking open my destination door and shooting down four scientists who were currently scribbling on their clip boards and prodding a cold, dead body in the centre of the room. Clenching my jaw, I shot the last one in the head (using my pistol, fast enough to get it over and done with) and watched as his blood and brain splattered against the white wall on the other side of the room.

With a sigh, I re-holstered my gun and tried to ignore the dead woman who was lying, bruised and battered much like the small child and looking younger then Natasha with her fair ash-blonde hair and pale, pouty lips. I closed my eyes momentarily, this place was more fucked up then I thought, and I made quick work in covering her body with a sheet and praying to whoever was listening that she rest peacefully.

But now was not the time for peacefulness, and quickly flushed all sentimental emotions from my mind as I stepped over the dead bodies and pulled out the small yet powerful explosive from my utility belt.

"Planting the bomb now…" I muttered, listening to the breathing on the other side of the line that was Natasha's. She sounded calm, too calm for a girl who was seeking revenge.

"_You know what your doing, right?" _Coulson asked in a concerned voice.

"Done it a million times, Coulson." I chuckled darkly, securing the small black package on the wall and flicking the flips and turning the knobs. I sighed before I pressed the red button and clicked in the activation code. There's no going back now.

"Romanoff, the bomb is planted. You have twenty minutes to meet me and ten get the hell out of here, do you copy?"

When there was no response, I immediately tensed and repeated my line.

"_Clint, I've lost visual on her." _

Well, damn.

"Give me the coordinates, I do _not _have time for this." I growled, now royally pissed off at how this mission had turned out, and I tried to ignore the heavy feeling in my gut that told me she was dead and there was no point in hoping.

I barged out of the room and counted down the time we had left.

.

"You know, you always had a strange way of spending your day."

There was no gasp of surprise, no jump or twitch as I calmly pressed my gun against his temple and watched his eyes flicker to mine and his mouth break into a sickening smirk.

He stood up, and I had my gun trained to his head the whole time, arm never wavering and hand never shaking, my cold and calculating eyes fixed firmly on the man who destroyed my life.

"There is nothing better then sitting by the fire and admiring the work you've succeeded." Ivan chuckled, and I sent him a sarcastic smirk before using the head of my gun to slam against his cheek and send him stumbling back.

"You fucking prick," I spat as he glared at me, his slick black hair falling in front of his eyes and a nice bruise forming on his cheekbone.

"It's strange," he begun, straightening up and taking a step towards me. "I never thought you, out of all the girls, would end up betraying your country. I treated you the best, you know. The other girls were _so _jealous, tried in every way to gain my favour, but they were never quite as good as you." He pulled his hair back, his words heavily coated with his Russian accent.

"You think that raping me was an act of compassion?" I hissed, landing a kick right in his stomach. He fell to the ground several feet away, and I made quick work in straddling him and holding a blade to his throat.

"You sick bastard! Who do you think you are, hurting innocent people, innocent _babies! _How dare you!" I screamed, slapping him across the face and digging the blade into his throat and watching as the blood dripped down the sides of his neck.

"Ah, the babies, yes. They were new. We wanted to aim for something more efficient, trustworthy. It's your fault, you know. Knowing that one of my best assassin's betrayed me for some _American _was a frightening thought. We assumed we'd raised you to be the perfect soldier, but you proved us wrong. So what could we do? Stronger testing, further studies? But I came up with something new, something different. Infants who didn't know a thing of life, who would learn everything from us. How to walk, how to talk, to ensure they would never betray us like you did. But the testing was too strong, and the weak little creatures couldn't handle the operations. We've been through about twelve of them, now."

I felt my blood boil with anger and rose my blade, aiming for his left shoulder when suddenly a sharp pain jolted up my leg and I let out a scream of agony as the poisoned blade clattered to the floor and a man who I recognized as Sergey stepped out from behind the door and looked in shock from his hand to me.

"Do you really think you could come into my building and destroy the place without me knowing?" Ivan hissed, standing over my cowering body as I hugged my leg to my chest and tried to fight the second scream that was rumbling up my throat.

He walked over my body, towards Sergey, who handed him a second dagger coated in the clear poison I recognized all too well.

"You remember this, don't you? It was one of your favourite way's to kill your targets. Instant Death, we call it. Although, that is not true. 'Pierce the poison through the heart, they will die within minutes. Anywhere else, they would suffer unbearable pain as the venom seeps into the body and rots the flesh, lasting for hours until finally they drop dead from the torture.' That's what you were taught, correct?"

Suddenly the stab wound on my side was burning with pain and my whole body felt like it was on fire. My breathing was coming out as ragged gasps and I could feel my stomach acids rising up my throat as I vomited blood all over the plush red carpet.

"Fuck you, Ivan!" I spat, cursing whoever was listening for my communicators cutting out before I got in here. Clint would be waiting for me, and he wouldn't leave until I got back, which means he will die and burn down with this whole building and the mission was for nothing. Cursing myself for being so reckless as to not assessing the situation properly and letting this happen to myself.

"Ah, but you already did that, my dear." He cooed, walking towards me and twirling the blade in his hands, careful as to not let the poison touch his gloved hands. He seemed to read the sudden despair that I didn't try to mask on my face, and knelt down beside me, a smile playing at his lips. "Don't you worry, I have a lovely plan awaiting your little American spy. I've already alerted the Tech Room that our systems have been overrun, and as soon as we have visual on him, we'll track him down, torture him for a bit, maybe even test our poisons on him, if he's lucky."

What? He didn't know about the bomb?

Pushing the pain to the back of my mind, I quickly used my manipulating skills to let a wave full of tears slip down my cheeks and sob into the carpet.

"No! Kill me, not him, please!" I shouted, tasting the blood on my lips as I squirmed on the carpet before him, my blood dampening my clothes as the two wounds started to bleed faster then usual.

"Oh I will, my Widow." He purred, raking his fingers through my matted hair that was hanging in a limp ponytail down my back. Flipping my head up, I latched my teeth onto his hand and bit down until I tasted his warm blood and heard him scream in agony, dropping the poisoned dagger to shove my face away and cradle his bleeding hand like a child.

Despite my burning, aching body, I snatched the blade from off the carpet and stood up, throwing it across the room where it planted firmly in Sergey's chest, his eyes wide with terror as he looked down at his wound and up at me, falling to the floor and slumping as the life was drained from his body.

Ivan was fast, but not fast enough, and by the time he was lunging at me I had already grabbed his throne-like chair and swung it with all my might at his chest. He let out a shout of pain and fell back as I limped towards him, stepping on his bitten hand with my boot and reaching for my gun, but it was no longer in the holster and the second that I wasted searching for my second one, he already trained my old gun to my head and pulled the trigger before I could move out of the way.

It was a bad shot, though, and the bullet scraped past my forehead and I felt the blood gushing down the side of my face and saw red when I was suddenly falling to the floor and he was on top of me.

"Just like old times, eh, Natalia?" he growled punching my jaw and pressing his hands against my throat, pushing his thumbs down until I was spluttering on my blood and spit against his strong grasp. I kicked and thrashed but it was futile as my vision begun to cloud from the lack of oxygen and blood loss.

The pain was beginning to become unbearable and I let out a choked scream as my head began to feel light and Clint's face flashed into my thoughts and suddenly the tears became real and I couldn't hold on to life for another minute and was about to close my eyes but heard a firm thump from above and saw the strong arrow protruding through Ivan's chest before he looked up with confusion and shock in his eyes and suddenly fell limply on top of my body.

My vision was blurry, but I could still make out the familiar shape of Clint's body as he roughly dragged Ivan off my dying form and lifted me up, cradling me in his arms as he knelt in my blood and looked in horror at all my wounds and all the blood and the poison that was turning the jagged, open wounds black.

"_Coulson, call the extraction team _now! _We're getting out of here."_

I didn't hear what Coulson's response was due to my useless comm link, but I found myself clutching onto Clint's arms, letting his strong body anchor me as I felt myself falling into a world of darkness.

"Natasha, I need you to listen to me for one minute, okay!" He asked, voice dripping in concern as my eyes struggled to focus on his worried face.

With a weak nod, he quickly scooped me into his arms bridal style, face inches from mine as his hot breath caressed my face and tickled my skin.

"We have three minutes until this building is blown into smithereens, understand? We need a way out, any way, can you tell me where the closest exit is?"

_Why can't Coulson tell you? _I thought to myself, raising my limp hand to point to the window that was covered by the thick curtains. He frowned but walked us over to the large window, placing me on the ground before throwing open the curtains and looking down at the twenty foot drop and the snowy slope below.

Coulson must have said something over the comm, because Clint suddenly closed his eyes and nodded solemnly.

"Maybe."Was all he said, before he scooped me into his arms once again, and I clutched him as close as possible, feeling my body start to shake and break into a cold sweat despite the warm fire crackling in the room.

"Are you ready?" he whispered. I lifted my head, looked around at the dead man with an arrow in his chest and finally feeling complete knowing that he could no longer hurt another soul on this earth. Was I ready? Yes. I was ready to welcome death with open arms, ready to leave this world because my job here was done.

"I'm ready." I whispered, closing my eyes as the glass shattered all around us and suddenly we were falling through the air, Clint's body ripped away from mine as the sudden explosion erupted around us and our bodies were thrown further away from the forceful impact and I could feel the blood dripping lazily from my nose and ears, my head ringing as the cold wind whipped past my face.

The fall seemed to last forever, and I opened my eyes in time to see Clint reaching out for me before our bodies made harsh impact with the soft snow and we were rolling down the steep slope, leaving a bloody trail behind the smouldering building behind us.

We finally rolled to a stop and I was able to fill my lungs with air as flaming debris slammed all around us, the white snow suddenly too blinding to handle as my eyes grew weak as the poison coursed through my body and left me in a shaking heap, my bleeding wounds staining the snow a brilliant red as I coughed and spluttered against it.

"Natasha!" I slammed my eyes shut as his voice echoed too loudly in my ringing ears, and I felt hands pressing firmly against my bleeding wounds and I let out a horrified scream as the pain shot through my entire body and I started to lash out wildly and causing him to fly back in shock.

"It burns, Clint! It burns!" I screamed, rolling around in the snow and feeling like I've lost totally control of my body.

"Natasha, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's all over, we're okay." He hushed me, pulling me into his arms once again and I finally found the strength to open my eyes and stare at the burning building falling into ashes ahead of us.

"No," I gasped, resting my head against his chest. "No, we're not okay. We never will be."

He didn't reply, only rocked us slightly as we sit in the snow and waited.

Waited for what? Me to die?

"What..." I couldn't finish my sentence, but he caught onto my thoughts easily enough.

"The extraction team is picking us up. They'll be here soon, I promise." He hushed, tightening his grip around my waist as I coughed pitifully and spluttered blood over his arms.

"What's the point, Clint?" I whispered feebly, staring off into the trees in the distance that remained undisturbed by the explosion that crackled around us.

"Shh," he said, rocking more forcibly now, as if trying to convince himself we made it out alive. "You'll be okay."

I could hear the familiar hum of a helicopter in the distance and closed my eyes until I could feel the strong wind hitting my face from the propellers above, a ladder being thrown down and four S.H.I.E.L.D agents descending and surrounding me, demanding orders and information on my injuries, but I paid no attention, just let my head loll to the side as Clint stood up with me in his arms.

I finally let myself drift away, knowing that Clint would be safe and everything was over. With one last glance at the surrounding tree's, I found myself staring at a dark figure in the distance, the light glinting off some silver weapon on the left side of it's figure, before it disappeared into the shadows of the forest and I finally let the exhaustion and pain consume my body as I was holstered up the ladder and into safety.

.

_Hey all!_

_I realised the other day that I never actually say thankyou to all you reviewers and I feel honestly horrible!_

_You all make me happy, I break into a smile as soon as I read whatever comment you have to give me! Thankyou for the support, I love you all!_

_I got a small easy pop quiz for anyone interested ;)_

_When Clint replies to Coulson's unheard message over the comm saying 'maybe' what was it that Coulson said to him? __**Hint**__ chapter one!_

_Who is mystery silver figure in the distance, huh?_

_Anyway, not many chapters to go and I'll be starting my sequel to the story, woohoo! _

_Oh, forgot to tell all you Jeremy obsessed people out there. I saw Hansel and Gretel, and all I have to say is that the movie was awesome and my ovaries didn't quite survive the lake scene. That is all._

_I will be seeing it again tomorrow :D_

_Anyway, REVIEW IF YOU WANT THE SUPER EMOTIONAL CHAPTER UP, FAST!_


	12. Chapter 12

"_En Pointe."_

_Natalia breathed in through her nose, closing her eyes and forcing herself not to glare at her instructor. When she reopened them, she stared at her small, petite figure in the mirror. Her red curls had been pulled back into the traditional bun, but her flaming hair ceased to stay controlled, and curls hung freely around her face. _

_It would have been a beautiful sight for the unknown eye. _

_For a moment, she wondered once again why she was being forced to train in this painfully beautiful art. But all thoughts vanished when a hand made harsh contact with her cheek._

"_En Pointe!" the instructor demanded loudly this time, glaring down at the small girl with irritated eyes. She took a deep breath, concentrating on the task at hand. _

"_It's all about technique and strength." She repeated for the thousandth time, pacing around Natalia as she rose higher in the air on the tip of her toes. She could feel her legs quake under the pressure, but pushed it back into her mind, ignoring the pain of her strained muscles. _

"_Pirouette!" the instructor snapped suddenly, and Natalia let out a ragged breath as she pushed off with her left foot, lifting it off the ground and bringing it up to her right knee. _

_She watched in the reflection as she spun, almost effortlessly on the outside, her body twirling in a flurry of the red of her curls and the black of her skirts. Once, twice, thrice…_

_She stumbled and fell to the ground, unable to handle the pain in her sore, sore toes. _

_Her instructor glared at the young girl on the ground, her knees rose as she unlaced the ribbons around her calves and tugged the ballerina shoes off her feet. She pulled aside the stockings, revealing her injured flesh without emotion._

_Her toenails were crusty with dried blood, the nails jagged and sharp from breaking against the pressure. Her feet were beginning to bruise, a light purple colour forming beneath the flesh, and Natalia looked at them like they had betrayed her, which in a way, they had. _

_She looked up at her instructor, a hopeful glint behind her cold green eyes._

"_Prepare thoroughly for tomorrow."_

_Her instructor left the room without another word, leaving the small child and her injuries by themselves on the wooden floor. Natalia looked at her reflection in the mirror, her chin trembling slightly, but she wouldn't let a tear fall. _

_She stood, walking over to the old cupboard on the side of the room, pulling out a basket and sitting back on the floor. _

_She grabbed the scissors, cutting away at the irritating kinks in the shoes and loosening whatever pressure she could. She unstitched and restitched the ribbons to her desired structure, grabbing spare cloth and gluing it to the base of where her toes would sit, adding padding before she moved to her feet. _

_They were only petite, and the more she trained in this form of dance, the more withered and old they began to appear. _

_They were ugly._

_She flared her nostrils, taking out a first-aid kit and bandaging her feet, clipping her toenails and cleaning the wounds._

_She stood in front of the mirror, breathing deeply and stretching out her remade shoes. They seemed slightly more comfortable, enough to please her. _

"_En Pointe…" she whispered to herself, rising to the very tips of her toes. Pain did not erupt through her legs like last time; she hardly shook against the pressure. _

"_Pirouette!" she breathed, pushing off her left foot and giving her the momentum to spin._

_Once… twice… thrice…_

_Her left foot landed smoothly behind her, halting her movements as she graciously flung her arms out in front of her in the normal ballet gesture. _

_She smiled at her graceful stance, standing up straight, never taking her eyes off her reflection. _

_Prepared indeed._

_._

The constant beeping is what woke me up from my sleep. It was quiet at first as I started to wander back into the land of the living, but with each breath, it seemed to get louder, until is was ringing painfully in my ears.

_Beep, beep, beep._

With a sigh of frustration, I let my eyes slide open. The bright light that reflected off the white walls burned my eyes and I slammed them shut again, readjusting to the ridiculously bright light before peaking through my lashes at my surroundings.

I was in a hospital ward, the single window beside my bed drawn closed with curtains but the annoyingly bright light seeped through a crack in the material, making the white room even brighter with the beams on the roof. There were no flowers, there never were for me, and the stupid monitor that I was hooked up to never ended its constant beeping. I felt the urge to pull the tubes and chords out of my hand and nose, but needless to say, my body felt like it had been crushed with a tonne of bricks, and I just couldn't bring myself to move a muscle.

I watched as S.H.I.E.L.D. nurses and doctors wandered outside of my room through the large window, frowning at how they shot me concerning looks when they saw the number on my door, and when the memories flashed in my mind of the events that took place… how long ago? I didn't blame them.

I would have blamed the drugs for not realising that there was indeed someone sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the back corner of the room, their blue eyes staring blankly at me as if not really seeing me. He looked exhausted, his sandy hair plastered to his head and a thick bandage wrapped around his chest and shoulder as he sat there in nothing but a pair of track pants.

"Barton?" my voice was raspy and hoarse from lack of use, and I cleared my throat and tried again.

At hearing my words, his eyes quickly refocused and softened as he looked into my own green ones, a small smile breaking over his face and he slowly stood up, wincing at the movement and dragging the chair over to the bed next to me.

"Hey." He murmured, sitting back down with a sigh and a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"How long have I been out?" I whispered, trying to block out that goddamned beeping.

"Eight days. Whatever drug that sick bastard used on you, it sure took a hold of your conscience. They say that they are surprised you managed to fight and stay awake for as long as you did, even more surprised that you survived the stab."

"Enhancements." I stated simply, trying to shrug but rendered useless as pain shot through my entire body and turned into a wince instead. "How'd they fix it?"

"I have no idea, I was kinda unconscious while you underwent surgery."

"What happened to you?" I whispered after a moment's silence.

"When Coulson lost visual on you and your communicator cut off I planted the bomb and came to find you. Too bad their Tech Room got a hole of their screens again because they sent, like, thirty guards out to come get me." He chuckled sourly, looking down at his hands.

"And you took them all down?" I asked in shock. Even I couldn't take that many men down.

"You always wondered why I like my bow and arrows, right? They aren't just normal arrows, though. I can set them to all sorts of different tips, like a grappling hook, explosive or a multiple shooter. It helps in moments like those."

"Clearly…" I huffed, looking at his injured form. "What happened then?"

"Well, I got shot in the shoulder but it wasn't anything too serious, and I got a couple of cracked ribs." He smiled like he was proud of it, and I rolled my eyes before trying to sit up.

"Shit…" I hissed at the sharp pain on my left side, clenching my teeth and falling back down into my original position. Clint furrowed his brow and looked like he was about ready to jump to the rescue, but was either too exhausted to move or knew I was okay.

"They say you will be in pain for a while, you know, suffering two stab wounds and being poisoned with something that should have killed you does that to you." He chuckled.

"Funny." I mumbled as I felt the pain ebb away. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Six days. I had to convince the nurses that I would be fine to sit in a chair, and when they heard who's room I was sitting in… well, they didn't want to disappoint you."

"They still think I'll turn? Even after everything we've just been through?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"Everyone does. Well, besides Coulson and Fury and Hill."

"And what about you?"

He paused and looked down at his hands again, frowning as if looking for the right words. I pursed my lips and tried to ignore the little voice in the back of my head telling me not to leave this place.

Before he could voice his answer, a very stressed looking Coulson came wandering into the room holding two small trays of steaming food that resembled mush and a glass of apple juice. To say that the food smelt good would be a lie, and when he placed the tray's on the small table beside me, Clint and I both threw the mushy food an equally weary look and Clint passed me the glass of juice instead, sipping from his own cup.

"Fury's managed to delay the debriefing with the Council until next week, made up something about you two being too unstable to move and talk. It's only half a lie, clearly, seeing as your sitting here as if you didn't nearly get yourself killed." Coulson muttered, pointedly looking at Clint in distaste.

Clint only smiled and gave me a weird, warm look that sent my heart on a frenzy and the monitor clearly showed that to every damn man in the room.

Ignoring the erratic jumping of the monitor, Coulson made quick duty in bringing a chair over and sitting next to Clint, looking at me for a long moment before sighing and relaxing into his chair.

"You two scared me to death, you know." He said honestly, looking between the two of us with worried eyes.

I tried to ignore the strange twist in my gut at actually feeling like people cared about me.

.

Over the past few days, things went by painfully slow, but thanks to my accelerated healing the poison was soon completely out of my system and I was now able to move and walk, resulting in a rather breathless heap on my bed by the time I got back from the toilet.

After four days of constant beeping, visits from Coulson, Fury and Clint and the exhausting toilet runs, we were both finally allowed to go home and deal with out injuries there. My stab wounds were stitched up and already looking healed despite the fact that it was less then two weeks ago that it had all happened, and Clint was finding it easier to move around (or he acted so), but was asked to wear a sling as much as possible and keep his torso firmly wrapped.

As soon as we stumbled into his apartment, I was in the kitchen digging around for food to cook after days of mush and apple juice, and Clint had basically thrown himself onto the lounge and was laying face first into the cushions.

All the fruit and veggies had gone to waste, so instead I stuck to making a big bowel of pasta smothered in cheese and sauce with a large glass of cola for the both of us. As soon as I sat down into the love chair besides Clint, he was up and practically snatched the fork I was offering to him out of my hand as we dug into the meal.

Not wanting to clean heaps of dishes, we just ate from the one bowel and sipped from the one glass, feeling like a normal pair of hungry human beings.

Without mentioning a word, I lingered off into the bathroom and let the hot spray of the shower wash over my hospitalized body and clear my head, which was swimming with a thousand thoughts at once.

Tonight I would do it. Tonight I would gather my belongings and I'll be gone, as if none of this happened in the first place, because at the moment, I felt totally complete. The Red Room was down. Ivan was dead. Clint was alive and I was now free of any more lies. There would be no more rape, no more brainwashing, no more torture or punishments and memories being stolen in the middle of the night.

But there will always be the nightmares.

And there will always be longing. Longing for the friendships that I have made in this short period of time that I never even dreamed of having. Longing for the feeling of being cared about, of having an important part in someone's life, and besides the longing is the guilt, because even though Clint acted like he was tough, he was just as broken as I was, and he needed someone to be there for him, to anchor him, but that person wasn't me, because how can you anchor someone else while your already lost at sea?

Not wanting to ponder on those thoughts anymore, I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel, careful not to pull at the stitches because I really cant be bothered with blood right now, and silently made my way to my small room. Clint was already in the shower as I made my way out, in a loose shirt that I'd stolen from his room when I'd first moved in here and some shorts. I let my wet curls air dry as I sat on the windowsill and watched the amber sky slowly fade into the dark, starless blanket over the city.

"What are you thinking about?"

I knew before he'd spoken that he was standing behind me, his voice low and weary and drenched in exhaustion.

"Everything."

He sighed and came to stand closer to me, his warm, shower-softened body only inches away from my own. Turning to face him, I noticed that he only had a towel around his waist and was holding a roll of bandages in his hand.

"I need a bit of help." He said, smirking. I stood up and grabbed the roll from his hand, ignoring how my pulse quickened as my fingers skimmed over his sun kissed body as I wrapped the bandages firmly around his chest and taut shoulder. He winced only slightly, but I noticed the small goosebumps rising on his body despite the warmness of the night.

Before I could pull away, however, he gently grabbed my wrist and placed my palm over his heart, which drummed a fast rhythm beneath his bandages.

"Do you get this reaction from all of your targets?" he whispered, his stormy eyes smouldering as he looked down at me, searching.

"Your not a target." I said, drumming my fingers lightly over his heart to match its pace. He smiled gently down at me, releasing my wrist and taking a step back, and I tried to ignore the sudden emptiness I felt as my palm slipped from his heart that I could no longer feel.

"Night, Tasha." He murmured, and if it had been anyone else to call me by that name, I would have broken their nose, but with him, it was an exception.

A reminder.

I watched as he padded into his room and closed the door behind him, and took my seat back by the window and watched the busy cars drive past and the city lights illuminate the grounds.

.

Three hours later, after I was sure that the soft snores coming from Clint's room were real and he was fast asleep, I silently made my way to my room and got ready.

Lifting the mattress, I gathered the total of $40,000 and shoved it into my duffle bag, along with the small bundle of clothes I had bought, shoes, fake ID's and weapons.

I got dressed into a pair of jeans and a tight fitting singlet that showed the outline of my stitches more then I preferred, but I was going to be climbing and I couldn't risk getting fabric snagged on a loose wire. I slipped on my boots and lifted the bag off of the floor, silently carrying it out to the window.

I took one last looked around the place. The empty pizza boxes and the bowel of pasta that we'd left there. The old couches and pillows and the kitchen that never really held much food. Despite all of its flaws, it had been more of a home then any other place, and I would miss it.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the undetectable smell of the small apartment filling my lungs for the last time as I turned to leave. Before I could swing myself out of the window and onto the grating below, a broken, downcast voice filled my ears.

"Tasha?"

The pained tone is what made me flinch, the way it dripped with betrayal and disappointment. I considered making a run for it, to just flee out the window and never look back, but against my better judgement, I turned around with a blank look on my face.

He was looking at the bag slung over my shoulder and my boots, but even though he knew very well what I was doing, he asked it anyway.

"Where are you going?"

I frowned and let the bag slide off my shoulder and land on the ground with a soft thud, folding my arms over my chest like a child and shrugging helplessly.

"Anywhere."

"Why?"

"I don't belong here."

He let out a humourless laugh and clapped his hands together softly, clenching his fists as they landed back by his sides.

"So after all this, you're just going to disappear?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"No! No, don't use that bullshit excuse on me, Natasha!" he suddenly exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air despite his bandaged shoulder. Internally, I winced, because of the look of despair on his face as he stood there with his sleepy eyes and flat hair. When I didn't reply, he took a frustrated breath and shook his head.

"Fine. Fine, leave. Run away. I would too, I mean, who'd want to be partnered up with a man like me? But I'm just letting you know, I sacrificed a lot for you, Natasha. My rank on the field has been lowered, I almost got _fired _so you could have a second chance, but who cares, right?"

"It's not you, Clint-"

"Yeah, yeah. It's not me, it's you." He scoffed, taking a step forward, his angry features suddenly melting into complete and utter hopelessness as he grabbed the two of my hands and held them fast.

"Please don't leave." He whispered in a broken voice, eyes suddenly looking glossier then ever. "I need you. I need you here, Tasha."

I shook my head, forcing down the overwhelming feelings that were pushing their way into my mind, and when I tried to pull my hands away from his, he just took three steps forward until I was pushed flush against the wall beside the window and his face was right in front of mine.

"I'm not good for you, Clint!" I breathed, closing my eyes as he held my hands to his heart. It was fluttering faster then normal, from what, I do not know.

"Do you want to know why I didn't kill you that night? Do you want to know why I didn't let my arrow plunge into your throat while I had the chance, why I let you slip away over and over despite my orders?" he exclaimed, slamming his hands on the wall either side of my head.

I nodded meekly, and he closed his eyes and took three deep, pained breaths, lowering his head so it rested on my chest and his breath tickled my collar bones. I didn't move, just slammed my eyes shut because the pain in his voice was bringing me down to my knees.

"You were just so young. Everything about you was professional, but it was so wrong because you're _seventeen! _And then… when I looked into your eyes… behind the blank, dark and closed off walls you built, I saw pain, and longing, and desperation, and everything else that I ever felt before I was rescued from myself. Behind the façade, behind the cold looks and killer hands, I knew you were prepared to die. And that's sickening, because no girl your age should _ever _be prepared for such a horrid thing."

He lifted his head, and I tried to ignore the fact that there were warm damp patches on my skin from where his eyes had rested, and how they glistened in the soft light and I swore to myself that I would never again be the cause of those tears.

"Clint…"

"It was the sadness and loneliness that caused me to make a different call, because despite everything you had done and everything you had been through, you were just a scared little girl. A reflection of what I once was." He whispered, gripping my shoulders tightly and searching my face for any kind of reaction that remained hidden.

"I just… I just don't want to be left alone again, Tasha, because now that I've made a friend for the first time in years, I don't think I could handle being alone again. I _need _you."

"I'm not a good person, Clint. Everywhere I go something bad always seems to follow! Just forget me and forget everything we've been through-"

"Not everyone can block out their emotions, Natalia."

I was taken aback by the use of my real name because I hadn't heard him say it in quite some time. He sighed and pushed himself away from me, taking a few steps and turning his back to me. I tried to ignore that he was clenching his fists by his sides and was shaking unsteadily.

"This isn't it, Clint."

"You told me you didn't believe in decent men, and that you killed men like me, sympathetic. If that's so, shoot me. Shoot me so I don't have to face my nightmares alone, because once your gone, they'll all come gushing back." He pulled the gun from the waistline of his track pants, tossing it to me, which I caught without looking. He turned and held his arms by his sides, jaw clenched and body tense.

"I'm not going to shoot you." I said steadily, letting the gun clatter to the floor. He looked down at it helplessly before sinking to his knees, holding his face in his hands and choking on his own sobs that wracked through his body and filled the room.

What bought on this sudden rush of emotions coming from him, I did not know, but it pained me more then anything else to see this strong, professional man crumple to the ground and cry. Like _really _cry, and that's when I started to question what nightmares haunted his dreams and why he was so desperate for someone to be there for him through it all.

"Is it something I did?" he whispered brokenly, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands and letting out a shaky breath.

"No, I just…"

I just what?

"If you stay… we will be the best partners S.H.I.E.L.D has ever seen! We will prove to the council that you are on the good side and we can live in this crappy apartment and eat pizza and you can have my room back!" he whispered, hope in his voice as he quickly came to stand up and grab me by my upper arms. "We could be a team!"

He was smiling now… or, he was trying to. Tears were still rolling down his cheek and the smile ended up in a grimace because he must be listening to how desperate he sounds right now.

Taking a deep breath, I leant into his grip and closed my eyes, shaking my head at myself more then anything else.

"If I choose to stay, will you tell me your story?"

He frowned and thought about it for a moment. "One day."

Opening my eyes, I looked up at him and wiped the tears off his face with my thumb, cupping his cheeks in my hands and leaning my forehead against his own.

"Well, the pizza and your room do sound pretty good." I sighed, watching his lips spread into a real smile.

.

_Sorry if my super emotional chapter didn't turn out as super emotional as it should have. It's been soooooo hot lately in Australia and I think it's getting to my brain._

_Anyway, review and tell me what you think. One more chapter (I think) to go before this is finished!_

_Thanks again to all you lovely reviewers out there, you make me happy :o) _


	13. Chapter 13

I almost didn't know where I was when I woke up in the morning. What happened last night? Did I stay or did I go?

Then I remembered the sobs that had filled the room and the way his tears rolled down his trembling chin and the desperation in his voice as he begged me to stay and I found myself hugging the familiar thin sheets closer to my body that smelt so much like _him. _

I couldn't hear anything on the other side of the door and when I looked at the alarm clock and saw how early it was I knew he would be trying to sleep on the day we got to spend at home on our 'sick leave' before our debriefing meeting with the council.

Or he was too ashamed to face me after last night.

Creeping out of bed, I let his long shirt fall over my short shorts and slinked out of the room, poking my head around the corner to make sure he wasn't awake and making a beeline to the bathroom where I silently closed the door and slid down on the floor, bringing my knees up to my chest and letting out a silent sob as my head fell into my arms.

All the emotion and sympathy I felt for myself was starting to take over and I couldn't hold it in any longer. Remembering all the horrors, all the nightmares and death and killing and everything that was just so screwed up! Remembering the screams of innocent people and the look of horror in their eyes before I slit their throat. Remembering the rape and the torture that the Red Room could concoct. The suffering and the pain and the never-ending loneliness!

And then his cries that echoed in my ears, the way he sunk to his knees and despite the strong walls he had built around us everything just crumbled down in those moments and made me feel like the torturer for the only man who ever gave me a second chance.

_Everywhere I go, something bad will always happen._

I gritted my teeth together and screwed my eyes shut, internally screaming for being so _weak. _

And then it was all over. I lifted my head from my arms and wiped the stupid tears away from my face. With one last almighty sniff, I rose to my feet, stripped of my clothes and let the hot water envelope my body.

.

"Are you okay?"

As soon as I stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around my body and loose curls dripping wet, he was by my side and gripping my shoulders, searching my eyes for the emotions I had tried so hard to hide from him.

"I'm fine." I lied, frowning slightly like I thought he was mad before shrugging my damp shoulders out of his grip and padding my way down the narrow hall.

"You're lying."

I froze at how cold his voice was and turned to look into his eyes, but he was staring at the ground and twiddling his thumbs like a nervous schoolboy.

"What makes you say that?"

"I already told you I can read you better then you think." He sighed, looking up at me with a mocking smile on his lips.

"I just… needed to let go. Just for a minute."

He nodded and took a hesitant step forward, rubbing his arms and running a hand through his hair nervously, opening his mouth to speak but closing it, trying to find the right words.

"I'm sorry about last night." He finally sighed, puffing his cheeks out in relief as the words left his lips.

"No, it was my fault." I said, shaking my head and sending little droplets flying on the walls and splattering on the floor. He smiled as he wiped a droplet from his forehead, searching my face for… something.

"Why did you want to leave?" he whispered, smile fading into something like a grimace.

"It's not that I wanted to leave, I just felt like it was the right thing to do." I shrugged, holding the towel closer as a cool breeze blew through the window that was still open after last nights events. "I just felt like my job was done, you know? All the evil was gone and I could leave with it."

He nodded but didn't say anything, so I continued on his behalf.

"I didn't want to leave. You… you were my only regret. And Coulson. I thought it would be easier, to just leave like I wasn't here in the first place, but it was the feeling of knowing that I was cared about and that I would be missed… _that _was something new, and something I didn't want to leave behind. I think that's why you persuaded me so easily. And…"

"And what, Tasha?" he prompted, looking at me through his thick lashes, always searching.

"And the way you just pleaded, the way you looked so lost and betrayed… I couldn't leave with that guilt. Not you, at least."

He looked into my eyes then, inching closer as if to see more, before stepping forward and tugging me into his arms, his warm body wrapping around my cool damp skin, only separated by the thin towel tucked under my arms. I felt his warm breath tickle my neck as he buried his face in my wet hair and breathed in my scent, gripping my waist and digging his fingers into my hips as if to make sure I was really there.

"Thank you for not leaving me, Tasha. Thank you for being such a good friend."

_Friend. _

.

"So what trying to tell us is that the Red Room knew you were there all along, but the leader, Ivan Petrovich, waited for the two of you to make the first move. So you go in, kill the last Black Widow standing, find the corpse of a small child, take down half the guards, separate, set the bomb, lose communication, kill Ivan, and escape just as the building explodes all on your own?"

"Yeah, pretty much. But Coulson helped us a lot with hacking into their systems, and we _did _get injured… you know, Agent Romanoff got stabbed twice, once by a poisoned blade, and I got shot and had my ribs cracked."

There was a long, tense pause as we all watched the Council exchange serious side-glances with each other, shuffling through the reports with sour expressions as they tried to find something wrong in the contents.

"With all due respect Councilmen – women – they followed orders and came out alive. I don't think any of you were expecting either of those two to happen, but they did. These two agents took down an entire organization by themselves, like you asked. So I think this case is closed." Fury said, standing up and striding over to the large screens and watching as they looked down at him, not phased at all by his announcement.

"We still have no evidence that Natalia will change sides." The woman spat, glaring at the redhead beside me.

"Her name is Natasha!" Coulson, Fury, Hill and I all said in sync, and no body missed the sly smirk that crept onto her lips as we all defended her.

"And where is your evidence that she wont? We don't know the future, hell, we don't know anything, and in this line of work, anything is possible. But she risked her life for you bunch, isn't that evidence enough?"

Everyone was looking at me now, and I resisted the urge to start spinning nervously in my chair as each intense gaze measured me up for my words.

"Agent Barton is right," Hill spoke, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair. "We've all seen the footage. There is no denying that Agent Romanoff's intentions were to take them down. She took one hell of a beating, I think acceptance to S.H.I.E.L.D is the least you can grant to her."

"And the fact that one of our enemies base and leaders have been destroyed should grant her a raise in her ranking levels." Fury said, leaning his arms on the large desk and staring at the screens with his eye.

"And I think that Agent Barton deserves his rank level on the field back."

Everyone looked over at Natasha now, who had hardly spoken a word the entire meeting. Her eyes were set on the woman on the screen, obvious hate towards the sour wench, and she seemed the least phased by the glare that she shared back.

Suddenly the room was quiet as the seven figures on the screen muted their voices and discussed something amongst themselves that we couldn't here. No one said a word as we all tried to read their lips, but they were smart and moved their lips as little as possible, making it hard to catch onto what they were saying.

Finally, the room was filled with the undetectable noise of technology and the seven figures all stood from their seats, lining up their paperwork and getting ready to leave.

"Exception granted." Was all the tall man said before the screens went blank and we all let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Well, that went rather well." Coulson said, slapping his hands together and beaming at the two of us like we were his children.

"Yeah, but they will be crawling up our backs until they can find a reason to terminate the two of you." Fury sighed, taking back his seat and leaning his chin in his hand.

"We wont give them one." Natasha said, staring fixedly at me with happiness and guilt mingling in her eyes.

I smiled as we all discussed these events around the table, cracking jokes about the Council and how we were going to make it through without them terminating us because there was no way we weren't going to screw up at least once.

It was a relief to know that finally, _finally, _Natasha Romanoff was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D and there was nothing that the Red Room or the Council could do about it.

After a while Fury had a meeting to attend with the new trainee's, Coulson needed to go through some reports and Hill had to organize future missions, and Natasha and I were left alone to let the feeling of accomplishment sink in.

"So, how are you feeling?" Natasha asked after a moment of silence, rocking her chair from side to side as she glanced around the room in sudden interest.

"I'm a little overwhelmed to be honest. I can't believe this has actually happened. Never in my years at S.H.I.E.L.D did I ever expect to have a partner-"

"No," she laughed – sounding like music to my ears – holding her hand up to stop my talking. "I mean, how do you _feel. _Physically."

I raised an eyebrow but tested out my shoulder, only feeling the numb type of pain shoot through my arm and my ribs were better. "I feel fine."

"Great." She said, standing from her seat and grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of my own chair and sending it spinning off and crashing into the cabinets. "We have a sparring match to do."

.

Where she manages to pull out all these change of clothes from is beyond me, but as I stood there in my S.H.I.E.L.D issued training shorts and a tight fitting singlet, swinging my arms absentmindedly at my sides as I paced the mats, I nearly fell face-first to the ground as she came striding into the cool gym in a black sports bra and matching shorts.

"Keep your head in the game, Barton." She smirked as she walked over to the benches and pulled out a water bottle from her duffle bag, glancing around at the windows on the second story where passer-biers did what they do, paying no interest to the two agents on the first floor gym that were about to engage in some serious ass kicking.

"My old gym used to look exactly like this one, you know, with the second story viewing windows where we were watched and studied on. If I were to walk out of those doors and turn to the left, I'd find the room of mirrors where I practiced my ballet as a girl." She mused, placing her hands on her bare hips as she came walking over to me with a dull look in her eye. "No doubt that if I were to do it here, I would be led to a change room."

"Only the best." I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "We actually have long lasting hot water!"

"The other girls and I were forced to share a bathroom all at once and stand under a couple of shower heads that sprayed out dirty cold water. I've seen enough nudity to make you a jealous man, Barton." She smirked, waggling her eyebrow and I finally breathed out a sigh of relief as her rare humor seeped in.

"Ready to get your sweet ass kicked?" I said, stretching and crouching into my favorite fighting stance. The smile was off her face as she stood there calmly, awaiting my move, but I wouldn't be the first.

Suddenly her left leg was hooked around both of mine and I was sent falling on my back with a loud thud, and she walked over and placed her foot on my chest as I breathed out heavily from my nose.

"Dead." She whispered, pressing her foot down a little too hard before taking a step back and letting me pant and sit up, still dazed from her fast move and the air being knocked from my lungs.

"Well, then." I chuckled, standing up and pretending to brush off my shorts before charging at her waiting form, slamming myself into her stomach, intending to throw her to the ground, but she had a firm foot and stayed planted on the spot, draping her arms over my back and digging her nails painfully into my spine.

I took a hasty step back and hardly blocked the kick that she aimed for my face and the fists that were sent in a flurry at my stomach. She was advancing onto me and I was stumbling back, blocking her fast movements before she was suddenly behind me and kicking my knees out from under me.

I buckled for only a second before I spun around and planted a steady punch to her stomach, and she let out a satisfying, surprised grunt as I made contact with her skin before she snatched my wrist and spun herself into my chest, slamming her foot down onto my toe and pressing her fist to my temple as I doubled over in pain, and for I a second I thought she was actually going to punch the living daylights out of me, but instead she bent down to meet my height and brushed her lips against my ear.

"Dead." She whispered again.

I smirked and gripped her throat in my hand, not tight enough to block the airflow but enough to push her backwards and land a kick to her gut. When she made to land a kick to my head, I grabbed her ankle in a tight grip and was surprised when she used it as a leverage to swing herself up and wrap her second leg over and around my neck until she was sitting with her legs draped over my shoulders and a dagger I didn't even want to know where she got from pressed against my throat.

As she made way to bend over a whisper my death in my ear, I reached up and gripped her shoulders, ducking my head as I pulled her forward and flipped her so she was sent sprawled across the mat in front of me with a look of utter surprise in her features as she stared up at me, panting.

Before she could make another unpredictable move, I kicked the dagger out of her hand, stepped over to her and bent down to straddle her waist, holding her arms above her head and using my feet to keep her deadly legs in place.

"Dead." I smiled as she stared up at me, panting and red hair sprawled out like blood about her head.

Both out bodies were damp with sweat and her soft, white skin glistened in the fluorescent light, her green eyes alight with fire and her breath coming out in harsh pants from the fall. She looked up and I followed her gaze, and in the short time that we had been fighting, we had gathered quite the audience.

Agents were all sitting on the benches or leaning against the wall, murmuring to each other as they watched us. S.H.I.E.L.D Technicians and office workers had all gathered by the viewing windows, stopping whatever business they had attended to, and Fury, Coulson and Hill had all come to watched the show as well, a small smile spread across each of their faces as they watched from above.

In my distraction I had loosened my grip on her hands and she used that moment to slide them away and flip us over so she was straddling me this time, yet _another _dagger placed by my throat as she leaned above me, her hair spilling around my face like a veil and a strange squeak escaping my lips as she sent me a deadly smile that I hoped didn't mean she was going to kill me.

"_Dead."_

.

Clint did make it out alive, and I had to admit it, it was good to be able to actually fight someone who made it a challenge and landed a few hits on me. In all my training, I had never met a component with enough skill to spar against because of my strange form of fighting, but this man was different.

After a couple of hours at the base, discussing the all important duties of a spy and going over the option of talking to a psychologist which will heighten my level of stability, we silently made our way home in Clint's small car that he hardly ever used and the feeling of a thousand weights being lifted off our shoulders.

As we made our way into his apartment, I headed straight for my room and settled down for bed, more then ready to sleep off the relief and guilt until the morning, which was full of paperwork and contracts and doctors and shrinks, but I was unable to fall asleep easily and instead turned on my small lamp and read a book that I didn't really pay attention to.

"You can come in, you know."

I knew he'd been standing there for more then ten minutes, probably going over his thoughts and thinking too deeply about what he was doing, but he hesitantly opened the door and poked his head around the corner, hair wet and spiky after his shower and his body still damp with water. _Why did he never wear a shirt to bed!_

I sat up as he padded his way in, a S.H.I.E.L.D issued bag in his hand and a blank look on his face as he plopped on the end of my bed and crossed his legs to face me. I sat up and placed my book on the bedside table, running my hand through my tangled curls and just being completely at ease in the comfortable silence.

"Coulson told me to give this to you," he finally spoke, passing over the black bag, which I took with a raised eyebrow. I opened it up and found the tattered and bloody uniform I'd worn on the mission, my utility belt folded neatly on top. "He said if there is anything you want to keep, then take it and throw the rest away."

I suddenly remembered the four items that held so many memories that I had stuffed in my belt before killing Veronika, and hesitantly pulled them out and laid them on the bed before us, glancing from one item to the other.

"Each of these seem to have come from another life," I murmured, running my finger over the smooth seashell.

"They did. This is your new life."

"No, it's just a new beginning."

He sighed and picked up the old rose stem, poking the thorns gently and holding it up into the light.

"What's this?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, taking it from his hands and spinning it around in my own, the fuzzy memories never clearing in my mind. "I'm not sure how I got it, or who from, but whenever I try, like really _really _try to remember, all I see is a dark figure with a silver arm."

He nodded and looked down at his hands, frowning slightly. "Do you think it was from… a lover?"

My head snapped up at his words and my instant reply was something that I had become accustomed to as a small girl. "Love is for children."

His frown deepened and his eyes stirred with something unfamiliar. "I know. But you and I both know that they played with your mind. Pulled you out, stuffed something else in, wove you into something you weren't, only for it to be forgotten and wasted."

I sighed and closed my eyes at his deep words that really pulled at my heartstrings, also looking down at his hands that were twisted in my sheets. "I saw him, the same figure, before I passed out after extraction. He was standing by the border of the forest, and vanished from sight. I'm not sure if I was seeing things or was going crazy, but it was the same strange figure with the silver arm."

"We all have our demons from our passed, Natasha. But I won't let him touch you." Clint murmured, snatching the stem from my hand and collecting the other three items and placing them in the draw beside my bed, closing it with a soft thud.

"What are your demons?" I whispered, and he shook his head with a sigh.

"Mostly regret." He whispered back. "Every time I see a carnival, or a military squad, all my memories come racing back until its too overwhelming to handle."

"Why? Why those two things?"

He looked at me, searched me for something, his intense gazed raking all over my sleepy form until he let out a puff of breath and moved over next to me, sliding under the sheets and resting his head on the wall beside my own. Whether for comfort or for not wanting me to see directly into his eyes, I do now know, but I didn't question it, just listened.

"When I was a young boy, my family died in a car accident. Only my older brother and myself survived, and were sent straight to a shitty orphanage in Ohio, where we were forced to act as slaves, never ending punishments… you know what I mean. Until one day, we had this crazy idea. _Let's join the circus! _So we did just that, and we were accepted easily enough, but it was always me that was favored because of my accuracy and aim, whereas my brother preferred animals. I became interested in one of the men that worked there, Trickshot, we called him. That is where I learnt the art of the bow and arrow and I adapted well enough to become a part of the show rather then the boy who fed the animals and sold cotton candy."

"And your brother was jealous." I stated, knowing only too well what it was like to be favored out of a group and the price it came with.

"Exactly. So he tried his best to gain Trickshot's attention, doing all sorts of things to gain his favor, such as stealing from the circus funds and giving him all the money, fighting random's for their valuables and so on. They sort of became a team, after that, and when I found out where all our money was disappearing to, I was appalled that the two men I looked up to the most would do such a thing. So I was going to tell the others, they deserved to know, and had hoped to resolve the whole situation without violence…"

"But they had other ideas."

He nodded and swallowed hard, looking down at his hands that were twisted in his lap. "They left me in the middle of the street to die. By the time I regained consciousness, they were gone. The whole circus was gone. I couldn't find a single friend. I don't know how I survived because they did some really fucked up shit to my head, but I somehow wandered into an old gas station and the old woman there saw all the blood and called an ambulance. In the hospital, on the small T.V, a news reporter was talking about one of the carnival trains loosing control and speeding off the tracks. Everyone died. No animal or human survived. It was _my _team, and all my friends and everyone I'd ever cared for were gone forever and I was left to grieve over the loss and betrayal they'd left for me."

"I'm so sorry." I whispered, not missing the slight tremble in his voice as he finished his sentence with his hands bunched in fists until his knuckles were white.

"I decided to use my skill and make my life worth something, there was no point in dwelling on the past. So I joined the military, being accepted faster then usual because I could snipe better then most of the senior officers there. We were in Afghanistan where a terrorist had tied three children together and planted a bomb to them… and I didn't…I couldn't deactivate it fast enough… so I ran for it, and the whole village and half of my team… they all died because of me."

"There was nothing you could have done, Clint."

"I could have died with them!" He said loudly, running a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at my face. "But I was too much of a coward. And now they're all _dead. _Everyone I ever cared about: dead. So I lost it. Turned to alcohol to numb the pain. I became reckless, I killed few too many people in desperation for money, a place to sleep, food, anything to get me by. I did some horrible things, and I hadn't even reached the age of twenty."

I nodded and stared at him as his eyes swarmed with memories that he had the trouble of remembering, and I found myself realizing that I wasn't the only one with a messed up past, and half of it I couldn't even remember.

"I got caught, though. Spent months in prison, but word about my skill and talent had gotten out some how, and Coulson came to find me. He risked his own job, because he had faith in me, he thought that I could become a better man, and if it weren't for him, I would probably be dead right now and you wouldn't be sitting here listening to this story."

"So Coulson bought you in?"

"Yeah, much like I did with you. Maybe it's some sort of right of passage, I don't know, but I was accepted into the organization nearly as fast as you were, and I rebuilt myself, but the nightmares were always there to haunt me in my sleep. I learnt to block them out, but then I found you, and the more time we spent together, the less the nightmares woke me in the middle of the night, and I knew it was _you _who was shooing them away. That's why I couldn't let you leave, Tasha. I can't go back now that it's all stopped."

I tried to smile, but the weight of his story held me down and I had to turn away so he couldn't see the sympathy that was raw on my face.

"And, besides Coulson, I've never really had a friend."

"Neither have I, Clint."

.

Life carried on rather easily from then on for the two assassins.

Natasha found herself spending less and less time with her personal doctors as her progress had gotten better and she'd learnt to grasp her nightmares and accept what had happened in her life.

Clint became a new man. He was no longer the lone archer who was a mystery to all at S.H.I.E.L.D. He now had a purpose for life, a partner who was there to watch his back and chase his nightmares away when they threatened to take over.

Eventually, they became the one of the best teams on base. Clint earned his ranking on the field back and was now a senior agent, whilst Natasha was still too young to reach that level. Still, they made their way through each day with no problem at all, with me as their handler to keep them out of trouble.

The Council were still trying in every way to terminate the two, but no matter how much they tried, the agents success in the business over rid all their complaints and the Council couldn't touch them.

Although they tried not to show it, they were still adjusting to their new way of life. Natasha needed to learn to let her walls come down because no one was going to steal her memories away, and Clint had to remember how vulnerable he really was whilst being partnered with the assassin.

_The Widow and her Hawk_. That was the title that eventually flew around the world, and despite the act that they claimed was true hate towards the title, they both liked the ring of it.

Their partnership grew from then on, and they became like two matching puzzle pieces, fit perfectly for each other, and everyone assumed they were a compromised case, but they knew better then to dwell in the depths of their feelings, and although there _were _feelings bubbling inside for one another, they tried their hardest to ignore it. Love was not something partners could risk in this line of work.

So, we watched from the second story as the two master assassins did their daily sparring match, now completely predictable with one another, and Clint relied on his strength while Natasha relied on her agility, and it was still a thrill to witness the fast paced movements that looked to be more of a dance then an actual fight.

Fury and I listened through the comm's as they panted on the other side, their intense fighting match reaching an end as Clint managed to pin Natasha to the mat with his goofy grin on his face.

"_Dead." _He whispered, but the smirk was soon wiped off his face when Natasha's eyes screwed shut in pain and she let out a shaky breath. He called out her name and quickly rolled off of her body, checking for any damage that may have occurred in their fight, when he was suddenly flipped onto his stomach and Natasha was kneeling on his back, tilting his head back by the scruff of his hair and pressing her secret dagger to his taut throat.

"_Sentiment."_ She scoffed, releasing her hold on his hair and standing up, smirking with fire in her eyes as he rolled onto his back and looked at her in shock and awe.

_"I kill men like you."_

.

_We have reached the final chapter of this little story. Does anyone else ever get a strange feeling in their gut and heart when they write the ending to the last chapter? Like the feeling you get when you say goodbye to someone? That's what I feel like :(_

_I would like to thank EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU FABULOUS PEOPLE OUT THERE who reviewed, favourited and followed this story and helped finish it. Wonderful, wonderful souls! _

_Now, if anyone would like to see a sequel to this story any time soon, then the review box is just below. Depending on how much feedback I get on this, keep an eye out for a sneak peek of the sequel on this story, I hope your all looking forward to it as much as I am!_

_Thank you once again for taking your time to read I Kill Men Like You._

_Now time to obsess over Jeremy Renner ;)_


	14. Deceitful Love

_Deceitful Love, chapter one. _

There are a few things that a high-class assassin does _not _expect to come home to after a three month long mission on the other side of the world.

First, you never really get used to having a home where you can stumble into and dump all your belongings on the floor and walk around in your underwear. However, assassins are trained to be prepared, and there's always a gun hanging by my side in my hand.

Aside from that, you never really expect to find a goddamned _dog _waiting for you inside. The black and white Border collie had knots all in his hair and was sitting expectantly in front of me, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of its mouth in the dopiest of ways. The only thing that I could muster in my mind; Clint was crazy.

I let out a humourless laugh and walked around the mutt, raising an eyebrow as it followed in my stead and looked up at me like I was his master.

"Oh no, you go give those puppy eyes to Clint. I'm not feeding you." I muttered, feeling slightly stupid for talking to an animal in the first place, but it was late and I was tired and there was a fucking _dog _in my apartment.

Oh, another thing you don't expect is to round the corner to the small shitty kitchen to grab a bottle of water, only to see the fridge door was wide open and the ass belonging to a slim, tall woman was poking out of the doorway.

Yeah, that gun did come in handy sometimes.

I raised it in my steady hand and waited for the woman behind the door to stand up. She had a bottle of _my _sparkling water tucked under her arm and had exceptionally messy bed hair, her lacy underwear and bra the only thing covering her slim body.

She let the long blonde locks fall out of her face before turning to close the fridge, and her brown eyes widened in shock as I stood there with an extremely irritated look on my face, gun pointed to the bitch who was drinking _my _water and a dog wagging it's tail innocently beside me.

"Morse." I greeted flatly, narrowing my eyes as she let the fridge door swing shut with a thump and regained her composure, a blush creeping up her neck at her near-nudity.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, Natasha, I-"

"Just had mad sex with my partner?" I finished, cocking my head to the side and dropping my gun to the table, walking past her and retrieving my own bottle of water from the fridge and downing half the contents. The dog followed happily.

She puffed her cheeks out and ran a hand through her messy hair, fingers getting caught in the knots and tangles throughout the locks. "He didn't tell me you were coming home," she sighed, changing the obvious subject. I scoffed.

"Of course not, why would he?" I said sarcastically, and my irritation rose as she thought I was actually being serious.

Head bobbing up and down vigorously as she nodded her agreement, a very shirtless and bed-headed Clint rounded the corner, paused mid step, let his eyes flicker from Bimbo-Bobbi to me and back again, raised his hands in innocence, turned back around and dashed away. The dog followed enthusiastically.

Clint Barton was a dead man.

.

_Just a glimpse of chapter 1 to my next story, Deceitful Love. It is indeed the sequel to I Kill Men Like You, but has a very different take of events then you would think. It IS a Clintasha fic, don't fret, but you know, who doesn't love a jealous Hawkeye and Black Widow?_

_Review what you think so far. The rest of the chapter will be posted when I finish it and officially start Deceitful Love. Stay tuned!_

_And another thankyou for all the support. You make my day! _

_PS. I will be going through and editing I Kill Men Like You because I have found MANY mistakes that need fixing. And this story is set three years after Natasha joined S.H.I.E.L.D :) _


End file.
